mi'.'. 


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BX  7233 

.P3  M4 

1902 

\ 

Park,  Edwards 

Amasa, 

1808- 

1900. 

Memorial 

collection 

of 

sermons 

MEMORIAL  COLLECTION  OF  SERMONS 


^;»**i«K,''™«»jr  ■ 


/ 
n 


PROFESSOR  PARK  AT  ABOUT  70 


MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 


OF 


Sermone 


BY 


Edwards  A.  Park,  D.  D.,  LL.  D., 

Professor  in  Andover  Theological  Seminary  for  Sixty-four  Years 


COMPILED  BY  HIS  DAUGHTER 


BOSTON 

^be  ipilgrim  presa 

CHICAGO 


Copyright,  1902 
By  Agnes  Park 


Pressfof  J.  J.  Arakelyan 

21)5  Congress  St 

Boston 


The  sermons  on  "  The  Indebtedness  of  the  State  to 
the  Clergy,"  and  "All  the  Moral  Attributes  of  God  Are 
Comprehended  in  His  Love,"  are  taken  by  permission  from 
a  collection  of  sermons  by  Professor  Park,  entitled,  "  Dis- 
courses on  Some  Theological  Doctrines  as  Related  to  the 
Religious  Character,"  published  by  W.  F.  Draper,  Andover. 
The  collection  contains  fourteen  sermons,  which  may  be  had 
by  ordering  of  the  publisher. 


The  Relation  of  Professor  Park's  The- 
ology TO  His  Sermons 

By  Albert  H.  Plumb,  d.d. 


It  were  a  worthy  aim  in  an  introduction  to  a  book  of  sermons  to 
show,  if  possible,  how  and  why  such  sermons  came  to  be  preached. 
Indeed,  an  effort  to  point  out  the  causes  which  have  contributed  to 
the  production  of  any  great  service  rendered  to  humanity  is  an  in- 
teresting endeavor.  It  involves,  however,  a  consideration  of  the 
difficult  question  concerning  the  relative  power  of  the  divine  and 
the  human  forces  which  have  conspired  to  secure  the  result.  For 
all  the  commanding  figures  in  the  history  of  the  Church  of  God 
have  owed  their  especial  power  in  promoting  his  kingdom  to  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Holy  Spirit,  taking  advantage  of  their  personal  pe- 
culiarities and  their  surroundings,  and  using  them  for  the  advance- 
ment of  his  own  ends. 

To  trace  the  working  of  this  divine  superintendence  has  always 
been  a  fascinating  study.  Of  late,  however,  there  has  been  a  pas- 
sion for  exalting  the  natural  influence  of  a  man's  temperament 
and  environment  to  account  for  the  power  of  his  life,  almost  to 
the  exclusion  of  any  special  supernatural  interposition.  Many 
writers,  with  unwearied  industry  and  great  ingenuity  are  continually 
constructing,  out  of  the  slenderest  resources,  numerous  fanciful  and 
conflicting  theories  concerning  the  tendencies  of  even  the  most  dis- 
tant times  in  which  certain  great  and  good  men  lived  in  order  to 
explain  their  career  and  sometimes  to  depreciate  their  work.  Christ 
however,  teaches  that  the  life  of  every  true  man  of  God  receives  its 
first  impulse  not  only  but  its  controlling  guidance  also  from  the 


6  MEMORIAL  SERMONS 

working  of  the  Holy  Spirit  within  and  around  the  man,  and  in  a 
way  that  is  not  true  of  any  unregenerate  life. 

The  proper  use,  therefore,  of  the  interesting  and  valuable  por- 
traitures which  have  been  drawn  of  the  men  and  the  times  and  the 
prevailing  schools  of  thought  which  shared  in  shaping  the  career 
of  the  author  of  this  volume  of  discourses  is  to  look  with  reverence 
and  awe  upon  the  Divine  Presence,  manifesting  his  power  in  over- 
ruling all  these  human  influences  to  qualify  his  chosen  servant  to 
fulfill  the  peculiar  ministry  for  which  he  had  separated  him. 

Professor  Park's  great  ministry  was  to  teach  theology,  to  set 
forth  divine  truths  in  their  orderly  relationship  in  a  harmonious  sys- 
tem of  thought.  He  has  been  called  by  eminent  men  the  greatest 
theologian  of  his  time,  the  greatest  American  theologian  since  Jona- 
than Edwards.  To  fit  him  for  this  work  and  to  guide  him  in  it,  to 
his  large  and  acknowledged  success,  there  was  one  prime  factor 
made  use  of  by  his  Divine  Preceptor,  the  influence  of  which  it  is 
not  difficult  to  recognize,  and  which  it  is  most  instructive  to  bear 
in  mind :  It  was  his  high  estimate  of  the  function  of  preaching  in 
the  scheme  of  redemption.  To  learn  what  that  estimate  was,  how  he 
came  by  it,  and  what  it  did  for  his  theology  and  for  his  sermons 
would  greatly  enlighten  inquirers  concerning  the  divine  plan  of  his 
life,  and  the  part  he  played  among  the  generations  of  men. 

It  is  believed  that  this  volume  containing  some  of  his  most  char- 
acteristic sermons  may  aid  in  attaining  this  end.  For  a  controlling 
motive  in  all  his  work  came  from  his  idea  of  the  mutual  relationship 
between  teaching  and  preaching.  He  was  led  to  feel  that  he  must 
first  of  all  have  and  teach  a  theology  which  could  be  successfully 
preached;  for  the  great  object  of  teaching  men  theology  he  believed 
was  to  fit  them  to  be  successful  preachers  of  the  gospel  of  redemption, 
to  help  them  fulfill  Christ's  injunction  to  the  typical  preacher,  send- 
ing him,  as  he  said,  to  turn  men  "from  darkness  to  light,  and  from 
the  power  of  Satan  unto  God,  that  they  may  receive  forgiveness  of 
sins,  and  inheritance  among  them  which  are  sanctified  by  faith  that 
is  in  me." 


RELATION   OF  THEOLOGY  TO  SERMONS    7 

Professor  Park  was  in  the  warmest  sympathy  with  his  personal 
friend  and  valued  co-laborer,  the  late  Professor  Henry  B.  Smith, 
of  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  New^  York,  and  with  his  mem- 
orable generalization :  "The  great  fact  of  obj  ective  Christianity  is 
Incarnation  in  order  to  Atonement.  The  great  fact  of  subjective 
Christianity  is  Union  with  Christ  whereby  we  receive  the  Atone- 
ment." 

To  secure  this  personal  union  with  Christ  by  faith  is  the  main  aim 
of  preaching,  for  "it  pleased  God  by  the  foolishness  of  preaching 
to  save  them  that  believe." 

It  was  a  frequent  remark  of  Professor  Park  to  his  pupils  that 
the  divine  origin  of  the  religion  of  Christ  was  proved  by  the  wisdom 
evinced  in  the  choice  of  so  simple  an  agency  for  so  vast  a  result. 
Its  philosophical  adaptation  to  the  end  desired,  revealed  a  higher 
than  human  discernment. 

Thus,  he  was  fond  of  stating,  was  fulfilled  the  saying:  "The 
kingdom  of  God  cometh  not  with  observation;"  for  Christ  had  no 
academy  of  learned  philosophers  pledged  to  promote  his  religion 
after  his  death.  No  great  hierarchy  stood  sponsor  for  it.  No  pow- 
erful government  was  ready  by  force  of  arms  to  shield  it  from  as- 
sault. Its  Founder  left  the  world  without  having  committed  his 
teachings  to  writing,  and  as  the  only  record  of  his  writing  at  all 
was  when  he  once  stooped  down  and  wrote  with  his  finger  on  the 
ground,  it  may  be  said  he  might  as  well  have  written  his  gospel  on 
the  shifting  sand  as  to  have  entrusted  it  to  the  unassisted  memory 
of  the  humble  men  who  were  his  immediate  disciples.  The  ordi- 
nary means  for  revolutionizing  the  world  by  a  new  religion  he  neg- 
lected, because  he  had  two  extraordinary  agencies  on  which  he 
relied:  one  was  the  indwelling  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit  promised 
to  all  his  disciples,  and  soon  to  be  given  in  copious  effusion  on  the 
day  of  Pentecost,  to  bring  to  the  remembrance  of  his  followers  all 
things  that  he  had  spoken  to  them,  and  to  guide  them  into  all  truth, 
showing  them  the  things  of  Christ. 

The  other  reliance,  and  the  chief  human  instrumentality,  was  the 


8  MEMORIAL  SERMONS 

public  proclamation  of  his  gospel,  in  oral  address  to  the  masses,  as 
recorded  by  his  inspired  followers.  A  thousand  other  instrumental- 
ities are  helpful,  but  this  is  chief. 

Professor  Park  held  that  all  true  preachers  could  say  with  Paul, 
this  is  "the  ministry  of  reconciliation;  to  wit,  that  God  was  in 
Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  not  imputing  their  tres- 
passes unto  them;  and  hath  committed  unto  us  the  word  of  recon- 
ciliation. Now  then  we  are  ambassadors  for  Christ,  as  though  God 
did  beseech  you  by  us :  we  pray  you  in  Christ's  stead,  be  ye  recon- 
ciled to  God." 

It  is  easy  to  see  how  Professor  Park's  ideas  of  the  function  of  this 
ministry  of  preaching  were  confirmed  by  its  earlier  and  later  suc- 
cesses. 

When  the  first  exercise  of  this  ministry  by  the  apostles  clearly 
demonstrated  its  efficiency,  the  enemies  of  the  gospel,  alarmed,  re- 
solved to  suppress  it  altogether,  and  the  authorities  commanded  the 
preachers  not  to  speak  at  all  nor  teach  in  the  name  of  Jesus.  And 
when  Peter  and  John  persisted,  they  were  cast  into  prison.  But  the 
plan  of  Him  who  said,  "Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the 
gospel  to  every  creature,"  could  not  thus  be  frustrated  at  the  start. 
And  so,  it  is  recorded :  "The  angel  of  the  Lord  by  night  opened  the 
prison  doors,  and  brought  them  forth,  and  said,  'Go,  stand  and 
speak  in  the  temple  to  the  people  all  the  words  of  this  life.'" 
The  words  of  this  Life,  of  this  Way,  of  this  Way  of  Life,  as 
set  forth  in  the  first  four  discourses  of  the  apostles  after  they  had 
received  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  embody  a  theology  that  can  be 
preached,  that  was  successfully  preached.  This  momentous  fact 
Professor  Park  never  forgot. 

Three  leading  essentials  of  this  gospel  are  exhibited  in  this 
divinely  directed  and  divinely  attested  preaching.  It  takes  for 
granted,  and  reaffirms,  that  which  nature  and  experience  show, 
man's  ruin  in  sin,  and  his  consequent  need  of  pardon  and  renewing 
grace  in  order  to  attain  eternal  life.  It  declares  that  the  sole  ground 
on  which  God  can  grant  pardon  and  renewing  grace  to  the  penitent 


RELATION  OF  THEOLOGY  TO  SERMONS    9 

is  furnished  by  the  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ  in  our  behalf;  and 
it  affirms  that  the  sole  condition  on  which  God,  for  Christ's  sake, 
will  bestow  pardon  and  renewing  grace  upon  sinners  is  their  sincere 
penitence,  and  the  exercise  of  a  loving  and  truthful  spirit  towards 
God,  sympathizing  with  his  aims,  and  striving  to  promote  his  plans. 

And  in  Professor  Park's  view,  in  all  the  great  conquests  of  the 
truth,  down  through  the  ages  since  the  day  of  Pentecost,  those 
preachers  who  have  most  faithfully  preached  the  theology  underlying 
the  first  and  most  successful  preaching  of  the  gospel  have  been  seen 
foremost  among  all  others  and  towering  above  all.  And  so  must  it 
be  to  the  end,  he  was  persuaded,  for  "Christ  crucified  is  the  power 
of  God  and  the  wisdom  of  God ;"  infinite  power  and  infinite  wisdom 
can  no  further  go  in  supplying  motives  to  turn  men  from  sin. 

Here  is  the  explanation  of  the  fact,  to  which  multitudinous  testi- 
monies have  been  given,  and  which  the  readers  of  this  volume  can 
verify  for  themselves,  that  Professor  Park's  preaching  had  a  most 
relentless  grasp  on  the  consciences  of  his  hearers.  This  explanation, 
however,  is  incomplete,  unless  it  is  remembered  that  this  great 
preacher,  like  another,  could  not  only  say:  "We  believe  and  there- 
fore speak,"  but  also,  like  him,  knew  that  "with  the  heart  man  be- 
lieveth  unto  righteousness."  These  great  truths  which  he  preached 
to  others  were  the  veritable  "sword  of  the  Spirit"  piercing  his  own 
heart.  His  favorite  hymn,  "When  I  survey  the  wondrous  cross," 
always  awakened  the  tenderest  emotions,  and  in  his  own  religious 
experience  to  the  end  of  life  the  great  facts  of  redemption  stirred  his 
soul  to  its  deepest  depths. 

A  memorable  confirmation  of  this  fact  is  the  personal  use  he 
made  of  the  following  passage  from  the  works  of  the  late  "wonder- 
ful John  Duncan,"  Professor  of  Hebrew  and  Oriental  Literature, 
Edinburgh.  In  a  letter  to  the  present  writer  in  1888  Professor  Park 
said :  "I  suppose  I  have  read  it  forty  times.  I  shall  probably  read  it 
many  times  more.    It  has  a  great  effect  upon  my  mind :" 

"Methought  that  the  Lord  showed  me  a  heart  into  which  He  had 


10  MEMORIAL  SERMONS 

put  a  new  song.  Where  the  heart  was,  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  heard  it 
singing  about  the  middle  of  its  song.  It  had  been  singing :  'What  prof- 
it is  there  in  my  blood  when  I  go  down  to  the  pit?'  It  had  been  sing- 
ing the  Fifty  first  Psalm,  and  Jehovah  had  now  put  a  new  song  into 
its  mouth.  He  had  done  it;  and  the  heart  was  trying  to  sing, — I 
heard  it  in  the  middle  of  its  song.  It  had  been  reading  the  fifth 
chapter  of  Revelation,  and  trying  to  sing  some  of  its  numbers;  and 
now  it  was  at  these  words :  'For  thou  wast  slain,'  and  oh,  how  the 
heart  was  sobbing  and  breaking!  how  it  was  melting  with  a  joyous 
grief  and  a  grievous  joy!  Oh,  how  it  faltered  when  it  tried  to  sing, 
'and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by  thy  blood'!  It  was  the  song  of  one 
to  whom  much  had  been  forgiven,  and  who  therefore  loved  much, 
but  it  was  the  song  of  the  chief  of  sinners,  to  whom  most  had  been 
forgiven,  and  who,  therefore,  loved  most.  Yet  it  faltered  and  made 
wrong  music:  it  jarred  and  there  was  discord;  and  it  grated  on 
its  own  ear  and  pained  it;  and  God  was  listening  to  the  song — God 
who  knoweth  all  things.  But  the  song  was  presented  to  Him  through 
and  by  the  Mediator:  and  if  there  was  discord,  it  was  removed  by 
grace  in  atoning  blood,  by  the  sweet  accents  of  intercession;  for  it 
came  up  as  music  in  Jehovah's  ear,  melody  to  the  Lord.  It  was  not 
discord  in  heaven.  I  would  know,  O  God,  whose  soul  that  is.  O 
God,  let  that  soul  be  mine." 


Tribute  by  Dr.  Richard  Salter  Storrs 


The  funeral  of  Professor  Park  was  held  June  8, 1900,  his  death  having  occurred  four 
days  before,  at  the  advanced  age  of  ninety-one. 

A  memorial  address  was  read,  prepared  ten  years  before  by  Rev.  Richard  S.  Storrs, 
D.D.,  LL.D.  It  acquired  an  added  pathos  from  the  fact  that  its  author  lay  dead  in 
his  own  church  in  Brooklyn,  and  being  dead,  spoke  as  only  he  could,  in  honor  of  the 
Andover  theologian  who  had  gone  on  but  a  day  before  him  into  the  world  of  light  and 
love. 

The  following  passages  from  that  address  give  Dr.  Storrs'  estimate  of  the  in- 
struction and  example  of  Professor  Park  as  a  preacher. 

"They  [Professor  Park's  criticisms  of  sermons  to  his  classes  in  the 
seminary]  magnified  the  preparation  of  sermons  into  one  of  the 
greatest,  as  it  is,  of  human  works.  They  showed  eloquence  in  the 
pulpit  the  noblest  of  the  fine  arts ;  nobler  than  printing,  architecture, 
music;  nobler  than  literature;  nobler  than  forensic  eloquence;  re- 
quiring a  powerful  enthusiasm  in  the  soul,  contemplating  the  ex- 
hibition of  loftiest  themes,  directed  to  the  securing  of  immortal  re- 
sults, requiring  for  success  the  utmost  diligence  in  training  all 
forces  of  body  and  of  mind,  of  heart  and  spirit,  discipline  of  style, 
discipline  of  manner  and  voice,  large  familiarity  with  the  best  au- 
thors, devout  piety,  human  sympathy,  vivid  and  inspiring  apprehen- 
sions of  Christ,  intense  belief." 

"I  have  no  conceivable  motive  for  exaggerating  the  power  of 
these  discourses,  but  I  can  honestly  say,  after  many  years  of  fa- 
miliarity with  the  American  pulpit,  that  as  a  preacher  to  students, 
Professor  Park  was,  at  the  time  I  was  permitted  to  hear  him, 
the  very  greatest  that  New  England  has  produced;  I  think,  be- 
yond doubt  the  greatest  that  the  country  has  known." 

"He  was  attractive,  impressive,  justly  famous,  wherever  he 
preached." 


12  MEMORIAL  SERMONS 

"Almost  none,  I  am  sure,  went  from  any  of  his  congregations  with- 
out feeling  the  extraordinary  power  of  the  man,  the  immense  im- 
pressiveness  of  the  theme  which  he  presented,  the  urgency  of  his  pres- 
sure towards  righteousness  and  God.  But  to  students,  especially, 
above  all  to  theological  students,  he  was  and  before  their  minds  he 
remains,  the  very  prince  and  king  among  preachers.  His  mere 
presence  in  the  pulpit  was  majestic  and  fascinating,  in  the  weird 
abstraction,  concentration,  solemnity  of  face,  voice,  mien,  and  man- 
ner." 

"He  believed  in  a  deep  sense  of  sin  as  a  condition  of  Christian 
effort  and  attainment;  in  strong  doctrines,  commanding  the  judg- 
ment, arousing  the  conscience,  and  lifting  up  the  heart  toward  God. 
He  looked  for  strong  emotion,  powerful  and  effective  practical 
purpose,  a  jubilant  sense  of  victorious  hope;  and  any  preaching 
not  tending  to  this  issue  seemed  to  him  the  unfruitful  sound  of  one 
playing  on  a  human  instrument,  not  of  one  bringing  a  mighty  and 
transforming    message    from    God." 

"Into  and  through  the  sermon  from  first  to  last,  went  the  really 
tremendous  force  of  his  intense  and  determined  personality." 

"None  of  his  published  discourses,  careful,  thoughtful,  eloquent, 
and  finished  as  many  of  them  are,  can  possibly  give  to  those  who 
read  them  a  fair  impression,  not  to  say  a  full  one,  of  those  amazing 
magisterial  discourses  to  which  we  here  listened  more  than  fifty 
years  ago,  the  rumor  of  the  approach  of  which  filled  the  old  chapel 
to  the  utmost  doorways;  on  which  we  hung  with  an  attention  that 
could  hardly  have  been  surpassed  if  trumpets  of  angels  had  been 
sounding  above  us,  and  from  which  we  went  astonished,  humiliated, 
with  excitement  in  our  minds,  and  shivers  along  our  whole  sys- 
tem of  nerves,  but  determined  at  least  to  do  our  own  feeble  best  in 
that  great  office  whose  most  illustrious  living  representative  we 
felt  ourselves  to  have  heard  and  seen.  It  is  impossible  to  overstate 
the  impression  which  those  sermons  made." 


CONTENTS 


Page 
Peter's  Denials  of  his  Lord 15  ^ 

Judas 43  v 

The  Theology  of  the  Intellect  and  that  of  the  Feelings  .      yz 

The  Indebtedness  of  the  State  to  the  Clergy  ....  125  - 

Moses  Stuart 177  v 

The  Dividing  Line 219  - 

Not  Far  from  the  Kingdom  of  God 241  v 

All  the  Moral  Attributes  of  God   are   Comprehended   in 

HIS  Love 263  ' 


f 


PETER'S  DENIALS  OF  HIS  LORD 


The  sermons  on  Peter  and  Judas  were  written  during  Dr.  Park's 
short  pastorate  in  Braintree.  Dr.  R.  S.  Storrs  in  his  funeral  sermon 
says  of  them,  "During  the  two  years  of  his  ministry  there,  he  gave  a 
large  part  of  his  time  to  the  careful  preparation  of  about  thirty  ser- 
mons on  the  closing  scenes  in  the  life  of  Christ;  reading  widely  in 
preparation  for  them,  meditating  their  themes  with  profoundest  at- 
tention and  clearest  insight,  and  putting  them  into  form  with  heroic 
patience  and  elaborate  care.  The  completed  series  of  thirty  ser- 
mons was  in  his  trunk  as  he  was  crossing  the  Hudson  River  on 
the  ice,  in  a  public  sleigh,  in  the  winter  of  1835.  The  ice  broke,  the 
sleigh  went  down,  the  passengers  were  saved  but  the  trunk  lay  at 
the  bottom  of  the  river.  When  it  was  recovered  the  manuscripts 
had  been  so  saturated  with  water  that  they  could  not  be  restored  or 
even  be  read,  except  in  two  instances.  Those  who  heard,  in  after 
years,  the  two  sermons  on  Simon  Peter  and  Judas  Iscariot,  will 
know  something  of  what  a  blow  fell  on  our  friend,  and  what  a  loss 
on  sermonic  literature  in  the  destruction  of  the  others." 


SERMONS 


PETER'S    DENIALS    OF    HIS    LORD 

"But  he  began  to   curse  and  to  swear,  saying,  I  knozv  not  this 
man  of  whom  ye  speak." — Mark  14:   71. 

It  was  of  a  Thursday  evening  in  the  beginning  of  May, 
about  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  that  Jesus  sat  down  with 
his  disciples  at  his  last  sad  supper.  "'Twas  on  that  dark, 
that  doleful  night,"  says  Watts,  but  in  reality  it  was  a  bright, 
moonlight  evening.  On  the  next  morning  Christ  was  to 
be  crucified,  but  the  disciples  did  not  dream  of  such  a  catas- 
trophe. "Whither  I  go,  ye  cannot  come,"  he  says  to  them, 
but  conveys  no  idea  save  that  of  a  terrestrial  journey. 
"Lord,  where  are  you  going,"  says  Peter.  "Whither  I  go, 
ye  cannot  follow  me  now;  but  ye  shall  hereafter."  "But 
why  not  now?"  rejoins  Peter;  "I  am  sure  I  am  willing  to 
lay  down  my  life  for  you."  "Willing  to  lay  down  your  life  ! 
All  my  disciples  shall  this  very  night  desert  me."  "Though 
all  men,"  Peter  replies,  "shall  commit  this  sin,  yet  will  not 
I."  "Simon !  Simon !"  Here,  observe,  Christ  does  not  call 
him  Peter,  Peter  the  rock,  as  he  does  elsewhere.  "Behold, 
Satan  hath  desired  to  torment  you  with  great  trials;  but  I 
have  prayed  for  you  that  you  may  not;  irreclaimably  apos- 
tatize." "I  am  ready  to  go  with  you  anywhere,"  exclaims 
the  bold  man,  "anywhere,  to  prison,  to  death."     "Verily, 


i8  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS    LORD 

I  say  unto  you,  Simon,  before  three  o'clock  to-night  you 
shall  deny  me  three  times."  "That  I  never  will  do^ !  Never 
will  I  deny  you !  My  steadfastness  may  cost  me  my  life, 
but  steadfast  I  will  be." 

The  same  profession  made  all  the  eleven,  but  in  less  than 
three  hours  they  all  disgraced  it.  No  sooner  was  their 
Friend  seized  and  bound  by  the  police  of  the  Sanhedrin 
than  they  all  forsook  him  and  fled.  At  the  very  hour  when 
he  most  needed  their  sympathy,  they  demonstrated  the 
hollowness  of  their  pretensions.  The  stout-hearted  Peter 
ran  like  a  panic-stricken  boy.  But  he  could  not  run  far. 
The  remembrance  of  his  confident  professions  worked  upon 
his  spirit,  and  checked  his  flight.  He  turned  about  and 
followed  the  temple  guard  and  their  sacred  prisoner.  He 
took  care,  however,  to  keep  at  a  safe  distance  from  the 
police,  lest  himself,  his  bold  self,  should  be  taken  to  prison 
and  to  death.  This  resolute,  sturdy  disciple  followed  Jesus 
afar  off! 

It  is  dangerous  for  a  man,  even  if  he  follow  the  Saviour, 
to  follow  him  afar  off.  Evil  results  ensued  in  the  case  of 
Peter,  and  they  will  in  our  case,  from  walking  even  in  a 
right  way  afar  off  from  Him  who  only  can  hold  us  up. 

This  fear-stricken  disciple  did  not  go  further  than  to  the 
court  of  Caiaphas.  He  dared  not  enter  that  court.  Not 
three  hours  ago  he  had  exposed  himself  in  the  garden  of 
Gethsemane  by  cutting  off  an  ear  of  one  of  the  police,  and 
that  severed  ear  was  still  haunting  his  imagination,  and  he 
was  afraid  to  be  seen  inside  the  illuminated  palace.  Still 
he  dared  not  go  aivay  more  than  he  dared  to  go  in.     He 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS    LORD  19 

remembered  his  boasts.  "Though  I  should  die  with  thee, 
I  am  ready  to  follow  thee  to  prison  and  to  death;  I,  of  all 
men;"  and  in  face  of  such  expressions,  he  could  not 
abscond. 

How,  then,  does  he  dispose  of  himself?  He  stands  out 
by  the  door  in  front  of  the  palace,  at  dead  of  night,  shiver- 
ing in  the  cold,  all  alone !  And  that  is  Simon  Peter.  "And 
upon  this  rock  I  will  build  my  church ;  and  the  gates  of  hell 
shall  not  prevail  against  it."  "Behold  that  rock,"  says  Cal- 
vin; "behold  that  specimen  of  human  stoutness!  It  is  all 
smoke,  whatever  of  strength  and  courage  appears  in  the 
best  of  men." 

It  is  probable  that  Peter  would  have  found  some  diffi- 
culty in  gaining  admittance  into  the  court  had  he  attempted 
it,  for  the  Jews  were  careful  to  admit  to  such  a  trial  no 
spectators  who  would  in  any  way  obstruct  their  proceed- 
ings. They  therefore  fastened  the  front  entrance  into  the 
palace,  and  appointed  a  female  doorkeeper  to  guard  it. 
John,  however,  by  his  acquaintance  with  the  high  priest, 
having  obtained  admission  into  the  palace,  felt  desirous  of 
Peter's  admission.  He  therefore  went  out  of  the  court, 
through  the  porch  to  the  door;  interceded  successfully  with 
the  janitress  in  behalf  of  his  brother  disciple ;  and  then 
assured  his  trembling  friend  that  he  might  without  jeop- 
ardy hear  the  trial.  "John  meant,"  says  Thomas  Fuller, 
"to  let  him  [Peter]  out  of  the  cold  and  not  to  let  him  into 
a  temptation;  but  his  [John's]  courtesy  in  intention 
proved  a  mischief  in  event."  Under  the  auspices  of 
John,  Peter  comes  into  the  court.    John  was  very  young. 


20  PETER'S   DENIALS    OF   HIS    LORD 

the  youngest  of  the  Twelve ;  Peter  was  old,  one  of  the 
oldest  of  the  Twelve.  Think  now  of  that  stern  and  hardy 
laborer,  in  all  the  strength  and  manliness  of  mature  life, 
hiding  under  the  wings  of  the  mild,  amiable  and  modest 
young  man  and  daring  to  move  only  as  that  youth  moved. 
First,  the  impetuous  man  is  apt  to  be  inconsiderate;  even 
the  bold  man  pleads  when  death  stares  at  him  suddenly ; 
the  positive  man  is  often  an  inconsistent  one.  Who  would 
have  thought  that  Peter,  who  had  just  pretended  to  such 
constancy  of  adherence,  would  have  been  willing  to  be  a 
hanger-on  at  the  door,  and  at  last  fall  into  the  arms  of  that 
younger,  feebler  disciple  who  had  just  now  been  leaning  on 
Jesus'  breast!  Why  did  not  Peter  take  the  precedence? 
Why  not  try  to  rush  into  the  palace,  as  he  once  tried  to 
walk  on  the  sea?  When  this  same  Peter  and  this  same  John 
on  the  following  Sunday  visited  the  sepulchre,  the  other 
disciple,  we  are  told,  did  outrun  Peter.  And  why?  Be- 
cause he  was  so  much  younger  and  sprightlier;  and  he 
arrived  first  at  the  grave;  but  the  sensitive  youth  stooped 
down,  and  looked  in,  yet  went  he  not  in.  And  why?  Be- 
cause he  was  too  modest,  and  delicate,  and  refined.  "Then 
Cometh  Simon  Peter  following  him,  and  went  into  the  sep- 
ulchre," without  stooping  or  looking,  for  he  was  all  bold- 
ness and  fire,  and  in! — in! — he  must  go!  In  he  went;  caring 
not  what  men  might  say  or  think.  Why  on  this  night  is 
the  scene  reversed?  Why  was  Peter  so  childlike  and  fickle? 
Why  not  pursue  some  straightforward  course?  Why  not 
either  take  a  stand  for  Christ,  or  else  take  care  of  his  own 
life? — act  for  his  Master  or  else  for  himself. 


PETER'S    DENIALS    OF    HIS    LORD  21 

"The  man  that  fears  to  drown,  will  break  through  flames; 

Or,  in  his  dread  of  flames,  will  plunge  in  waves. 

When  eagles  are  in  view,  the  screaming  doves 

Will  cower  beneath  the  feet  of  man  for  safety." 

— Cibber. 

At  the  upper  end  of  the  court  was  a  platform  elevated 
above  the  common  floor,  distinguished  by  the  insignia  of 
authority.  On  this  elevation,  like  the  elevation  around  this 
pnlpit,  were  the  priests  and  elders,  wrapped  about  in  their 
venerable,  flowing  robes,  and  sitting  or  reclining  on  carpets 
or  splendid  cushions.  In  front  of  them  was  their  meek 
prisoner.  In  that  part  of  the  court  nearest  the  porch,  where 
there  was  no  platform,  on  the  common  floor  of  the  area, 
corresponding  with  that  part  of  this  church  nearest  the 
porch,  stood  the  guard,  and  the  servants  of  the  Sanhedrin. 
In  that  distant  part  of  the  court  was  a  vessel  of  burning 
coals,  around  which  stood  the  police,  who  had  chilled  them- 
selves  in  their  midnight  search  for  Jesus.  Peter,  with  a 
hesitating  heart,  placed  himself  in  that  circle  around  the 
fire.  He  loved  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  and  was  hearkening 
with  anxiety  lest  he  should  hear  the  judges  pronounce  a 
verdict  against  him.  At  the  same  time,  he  was, mortified 
at  the  pitiable  prospects  of  the  Messiah's  kingdom,  and 
trembling  lest  some  one  should  recognize  him  as  a  member 
of  that  kingdom.  He  was  well-nigh  distracted  with  these 
conflicting  passions.  He  seems  to  have  been  too  uneasy 
for  remaining  still,  and  to  have  been  constantly  changing  his 
posture — one  minute  standing  up,  the  next  sitting  down, 
the  next  walking  about.  His  countenance  doubtless  be- 
trayed his  feelings ;   for  such  a  man  as  Peter,  if  we  may  use 


22  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS    LORD 

the  common  phrase,  carried'  his  heart  in  his  face.  He  was 
unfortunately  constituted  to  be  a  spy  in  an  enemy's  en- 
closure. It  was  a  very  suspicious  circumstance  that  a  man 
looking  as  Peter  looked,  should  have  entered  the  palace 
under  the  patronage  of  a  known  friend  of  Jesus.  All  can- 
not be  right,  thought  the  doorkeeper,  and  she  now  comes 
into  the  court  and  gazes  steadfastly  at  Peter's  countenance. 
There  can  be  no  mistake.  Those  quivering  muscles,  that 
quick-moving  eye,  and  agonized  expression,  and  nervous 
restlessness  of  the  whole  system  had  a  meaning  not  to  be 
misunderstood.  ''Are  not  you  one  of  the  disciples  who 
were  with  this  impostor?"  There  it  is  out — out,  the  whole 
of  it !  The  officers  are  near  him ;  he  is  afraid  their  atten- 
tion will  be  roused  ;  he  will  be  imprisoned  as  an  accomplice  ; 
will  be  doomed  to  die.  And  the  question  comes  suddenly ; 
no  time  to  guard  himself.  And  yet  he  must  say  something, 
and  say  it  in  an  instant.  To  remain  speechless  is  to  plead 
g-uilty.  "/,  woman,  /  one  of  them  with  Jesus !  That  I  am 
not.  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  by  saying  'them  with 
Jesus ;'  I  am  not  acquainted  with  this  Jesus."  O  Peter, 
who  art  by  name  rocklike,  why  didst  thou  shrink  back  from 
this  question  of  the  doorkeeper?  The  question  did  not 
come  from  the  band  of  soldiers,  but  from  one  of  the  maid- 
servants. Was  there  indeed  no  way  for  a  full-grown  man 
to  hold  his  ground  against  this  woman?  Simon  Peter,  what 
an  omen  is  this  for  thy  future  career !  If  thou  hast  run  with 
the  footmen  and  they  have  wearied  thee,  then  how  canst 
thou  contend  with  horses?  If  in  the  land  of  peace,  wherein 
thou  trustedst,  they  wearied  thee,  then  how  wilt  thou  do  in 
the  swellings  of  Jordan? 


PETER'S    DENIALS    OF    HIS    LORD  23 

In  an  instant  after  Peter's  falsehood,  he  went  in  trouble 
from  the  court  into  the  porch.   Here  he  hoped  to  be  alone. 
No  sooner  had  he  entered  the  porch  than  the  cock  crew. 
It  was  the  signal  for  midnight.     His  retirement,  however, 
from  the  court   did  not  relieve  him  from   his  remorse. 
Nearly  two  hours,  certainly  more  than  one  hour,  he  re- 
mained   in    the    porch,    the    prey    of    his    own    corroding 
thoughts.    Must  there  not  be  some  peculiar  reason  for  his 
withdrawing  with  a  wan  countenance  from  so  interesting 
a  trial?    This  question  forced  itself  upon  one  of  the  priest's 
servants,  and  she  says  to  some  of  the  bystanders,  "I  verily 
believe  that  this  man  was  with  Jesus  of  Nazareth  after  all." 
Not  wishing  to  utter  another  falsehood  if  he  could  help  it, 
Peter  made  her  no  reply,  and,  to  aid  the  evasions,  turned 
his  face  and  went  back  to  the  court.    The  doorkeeper  who 
first  accused  him  was  confident  that  unless  the  accusation 
were  true,  he  would  not  be  so  shy.  Therefore  she  followed 
him  into  the  hall,  and  said  in  an  undertone  (probably  the 
undertone  must  have  been  used  lest  the  trial  should  be 
disturbed)  to  the  group  around  the  fire:  "This  man  was 
indeed  a  disciple!"  The  men  heard  her;  one  of  them  joined 
with  her,  "Yes,  't  is  true,  you  did  belong  to  the  company." 
^'Certainly,''  they  all  cry  out,  "you  are  one  of  his  disciples." 
What  now  can  the  terrified  man  do?    Can  he  silently  steal 
back  to  the  porch,  as  he  had  just  now  evaded  the  woman? 
It  is  not  so  easy  to  rid  himself  of  a  company  of  men.    Shall 
he  confess  the  truth?    But  he  has  once  denied  it,  and  if  he 
now  confesses  it  he  will  prove  himself  to  be  not  only  a 
disciple  but  also  a  deceiver.     He  has  committed  himself, 


24  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS    LORD 

you  see.  One  lie  requires  ten  more  to  make  it  good,  and 
if  the  lie  is  doubted  it  must  be  confirmed  by  an  oath,  and 
the  bold  man  must  not  only  persist  in  his  falsehood,  but 
also  swear  that  it  is  the  truth.  Into  a  deep  ditch,  indeed, 
had  Peter  fallen.  But  silence  will  not  answer — something 
must  be  said  outright.  "It  is  false ;  I  am  not  one  of  his 
disciples.  I  do'  not  know  the  man  whom  you  call  Jesus  of 
Nazareth.  I  will  take  my  oath  upon  it — I  appeal  to  God. 
The  direst  ends  I  call  down  upon  myself  if  I  know  anything 
about  this  prisoner." 

The  officers  and  servants  noticing  the  violence  of  Peter's 
gestures,  and  the  boldness  of  his  asseveration,  could  not 
believe  that  he  was  swearing  to  a  falsehood,  and  they 
seem  to  have  remained  in  quietness  a  little  more  than 
an  hour.  But  could  Peter  be  quiet?  Was  he  not  all  this 
time  straining  painfully  to  overhear  what  was  said,  and 
tossed  about  with  anxiety  lest  suspicion  should  again  rise 
against  him?  Did  not  the  occasional  glances  at  the  meek 
prisoner  and  at  the  pitiful  countenance  of  John,  work  up 
his  sensibilities  to  painful  excitement?  Indeed — indeed 
this  must  have  been  a  long  hour  of  dismal  foreboding.  It 
must  have  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  time  would  never  pass 
away.  His  conscience  made  an  hour  a  symbol  of  eternity. 
Every  person  whom  he  saw  seemed  an  informer  against 
him.  The  merest  whisper  agitated  him.  But  though  his 
heart  was  fluttering,  he  put  on  as  much  of  an  air  of  courage 
as  he  could,  and  appears  to  have  been  so  imprudent  as  to 
have  taken  some  part  in  the  conversation  around  the  fire. 

But  here  presented  itself  a  new  difdciilty.      As  he  was  a 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS    LORD  25 

native  of  Bethsaida,  in  Galilee,  he  spoke  in  a  provincial 
style,  as  different  from  the  style  at  Jerusalem  as  the  brogue 
of  Yorkshire  is  from  the  accent  of  the  Londoner.  "The 
Bethsaidans  pronounced  the  Aramean  vowels,"  says  Micha- 
elis,  "confusedly,  and  accented  the  penultimate  of  their 
words."  They  were  also  distinguished  fromj  the  natives  of 
the  capital  by  their  inability  to  sound  at  all  three  letters  of 
their  alphabet,  and  also,  according  to  Tholuck,  by  a  flat 
enunciation. 

One  of  the  bystanders,  recognizing  Peter's  provincial- 
isms, exclaimed  with  an  air  of  confidence,  "Truly  you  are  a 
disciple  of  the  impostor ;  for  you  are  Galilean,  and  nearly  all 
the  disciples  are  Galileans."  "Your  speech  shows  you  to 
be  a  Galilean,"  cried  others ;  "there  is  no  such  thing  as  con- 
cealing it ;  you  must  be  guilty."  "Did  I  not  see  you  in  the 
garden  with  him?"  asked  a  relative  of  Malchus,  whose  ear 
Peter  had  cut  off  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane.  "Did  I 
not  see  you  m  the  garden  with  him?"  This  allusion  to 
the  garden  where  Peter  had  so  unfortunately  signalized 
himself,  seemed  to  intimate  that  the  smiting  of  Malchus 
was  to  be  a  means  of  identifying  the  smiter.  A  cousin  of 
the  wounded  man  was  present ;  and,  what  is  worse,  the  po- 
lice were  present  also !  He  knows  not  what  to  say.  But  he 
Ihas  gone  too  far  to  retrace  his  steps.  Irritated  at  the  im- 
portunity of  the  bystanders,  he  is  quiet  ini  his  reply.  "On 
my  oath,  I  tell  yon  the  truth.  I  am  not  acquainted  with 
Christ  Jesus.  I  do  not  know  zvhat  you  mean  by  your  ques- 
tions about  him."  Then  began  he  not  only  to  swear  but 
also  to  curse.     He  probably  raised  his  voice  louder  than 


26  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD 

usual.  He  certainly  spoke  in  a  rage,  and  in  the  midst  of 
his  tumultuous  asseverations  the  cock  crew.  It  was  a  sig- 
nal for  the  hour  of  three.  In  fear  he  now  turns  his  eye  up  to 
Jesus.  The  persecuted  prisoner  had  been  standing  with 
his  back  to  the  disciple,  but  the  uncommon  loudness  of 
the  third  denial  reached  his  ear.  The  most  fearful  denial 
of  the  three ;  the  one  which,  with  its  oaths  and  blasphemies, 
would  have  been  most  gladly  concealed,  was  heard  by  him 
more  distinctly  than  any  other;  perhaps  was  the  only  one 
which  was  heard  at  all.  Peter  sees  what  he  has  done,  and 
with  the  most  harrowing  solicitude  keeps  his  streaming 
eyes  fixed  on  the  man  whom  he  "did  not  know."  The  poor 
sinner  has  suddenly  forgotten  that  he  did  not  know  Jesus 
of  Nazareth.  He  has  forgotten  to  remember  that  he  never 
saw  the  Man  of  sorrows.  He  has  become  all  at  once  most 
unfortunately  honest.  With  a  witness  he  is  now  detected. 
Murder  will  out.  Truth  will  out.  Here  stands  the  prisoner, 
mild,  solemn,  unruffled.  There  stands  the  profane  disciple, 
trembling,  restless,  terrified,  his  eye  fixed  upon  Christ,  asi,.^ 
the  eye  of  a  servant  upon  the  master's  uplifted  rod.  What 
a  contrast  in  the  countenances  of  these  two  men  !  As  much 
difference  as  between  innocence  and  guilt ;  between  the 
sufferer  and  the  doer  of  wrong ;  between  an  afflicted  spirit, 
comforted  from  above,  and  a  sinning  one  goaded  on  by 
influences  from  beneath.  This  handcuffed  prisoner  was  by 
his  virtue  free  as  the  mountain  air,  but  that  disciple,  free 
though  he  seemed,  was  yet  the  only  prisoner,  manacled  and 
fettered  by  his  crime,  and  thrust  through  and  through  by 
the  spear  of  conscience.       Conscience  had  given  to  the 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS    LORD  27 

bound  man  the  liberty  of  the  angels,  and  had  made  the  un- 
bound man  the  very  slave  of  himself,  of  sin,  of  torture.  Just 
so  it  is.  Conscience  is  the  master  of  a  man  after  all.  This, 
this  makes  the  difference  between  the  placid  and  the 
wretched — this  the  difference  between  a  heaven  and  a  hell. 
It  is  touchingly  recorded  that  at  this  moment  Jesus 
turned  round  and  looked  after  Peter.  The  most  cunning 
artists  have  tried  to  express  on  canvas  the  effect  of  this 
look  of  Christ ;  but  they  have  laid  down  their  pencil  in 
despair.  The  sacred  historians  dared  not  attempt  to  de- 
scribe the  look,  but  simply  said  that  Jesus  turned  and 
looked  upon  Peter.  That  simple  look  darted  into  Peter's 
memory  the  scorned  prediction,  "Before  the  cock  crow, 
thou  shalt  deny  me  thrice."  The  look  was  beyond  the  en- 
durance of  the  vociferous  sinner.  Though  the  hands  of 
Christ  were  tied,  and  he  could  make  no  rebuking  gesture, 
yet  that  eye  which  had  once  disconcerted  the  whole  com- 
pany of  the  Nazarenes  on  the  brow  of  the  hill ;  that  eye 
which  had  once  unmanned  and  confounded  the  money- 
changers and  marketmen  of  the  temple-porch ;  that  eye 
which  had,  a  few  hours  ago,  disheartened  and  prostrated 
the  constables  in  Gethsemane ;  that  eye  which  we  have  rea- 
son to  believe  was  at  times  more  energetic  than  any  other 
human  eye,  wilts  down  all  the  apostle's  hope.  He  goes 
out  of  the  court  with  quick  and  violent  steps,  in  despair. 
He  wept;  was  softened;  he  wept  bitterly,  with  peni- 
tence proportioned  to  his  sin.  He  went  out  and  wept ; 
for  he  chose  a  secret  place,  aloof  from  his  evil  com- 
pany,   where    he    might    mourn    and    pray    alone.      As 


2d>  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS    LORD 

the  doves  of  the  valleys  fly  to-  the  mountains,  all  of  them 
mourning,  it  was  the  language  of  his  heart,  "Oh  that  I 
had  wings  like  a  dove !  that  I  might  fly  away,  and  bewail 
my  transgression."     From  three  o'clock  until  sunrise,  he 
probably  spent  in  astonishment  at  his  guilt.    The  stillness 
of  the  night  and  the  dark  shadows  of  the  morn  tended  only 
to  excite  his  conscience  the  more.     "Not  six  hours  ago" 
(such  must  have  been  thq  substance  of  his  soliloquy),  "not 
six  hours  ago,  I  partook  of  Christ's  body  and  his  blood 
from  his  own  hand.    I  have  committed  my  sin  fresh,  fresh 
from  the  communion-table.     My  words  spoken  can  never 
be  recalled.     I   have  made  a  ruinous  impression  on  im- 
mortal souls.     I  have  wounded  the  heart  of  Jesus.     I  have 
pierced  his  side.    It  is  done.    It  cannot  be  undone.    I  have 
done  it."     Turn  which  way  the  apostle  would  he  could 
not  make  his  escape  from  that  eye  which  had  just  flung 
its  glance  upon  him.     Like  the  eye  of  a  good  portrait  it 
followed  him,  and,  if  he  does  turn  away  his  head,  it  still 
follows  him,  and  lives  and  burns  before  him.    The  eye  was 
constantly  speaking  to  him,  "Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  you  who 
would  never  forsake  me,  much  less  deny  me,  when  you 
ought  to  be  with  the  judges  as  a  witness  in  my  favor,  are 
you  afraid  to  acknowledge  me  before  the  servants?     Do 
you  not  know  me,  Simon?    Did  you  never  know  me?  Alas, 
unhappy  disciple,  Satan  has  desired  to  have  you  that  he 
may  sift  you  as  wheat !    I  knew  it  long  ago.    I  wished  you 
to  know  your  danger.     I  told  you  of  it  again  and  again. 
You  insisted  that  I  was  in  the  wrong  and  you  in  the  right, 
and  yet,  Peter,  I  will  pray  for  you.     In  all  my  present 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS    LORD  29 

troubles,  I  will  intercede  for  you.  On  my  cross  I  will  make 
entreaty  for  you,  and  when  I  am  dead  and  you  are  con- 
verted, strengthen,  the  brethren  by  the  experience  of  this 
hour." 

Oh,  that  eye,  that  speaking  eye  of  the  Redeemer!  No 
wonder  that  it  will  one  day  cause  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth  to  wail  by  its  glance.  Oh,  that,  whenever  we  sin, 
the  same  eye  may  turn  upon  us,  in  the  same  way  as  it 
turned  upon  our  brother  in  guilt !  In  the  hour  of  Christ's 
dismal  gloom  he  retained  his  erring  disciple,  and  will  he 
not  much  more  in  the  days  of  his  triumphant  reign  restore 
the  modern  backslider?  Will  he  not  move  toward  us  while 
we,  as  Peter,  remain  unmoved,  and  persuade  our  reluctant 
hearts  to  love  him,  because  he  first  loved  us?  Behold  the 
goodness  and  the  severity  of  God!  Severity  how  kind!  Be- 
hold how  awful  goodness  is! 

The  sin  of  Peter  suggests  a  few  remarks : — 
First,  it  teaches  us  the  necessity  of  avoiding  temptation. 
It  is  probable  that  Peter  had  never  believed  until  the  event 
occurred  that  our  Lord  would  be  imprisoned,  and  his  mind 
became  confused  by  the  sudden  dissipation  of  his  hopes. 
He  was  expecting  his  own  imprisonment  and  death,  and 
resorted  to  his  falsehood  on  the  principle  of  self-preserva- 
tion. Some  have  supposed  that  we  have  a  right  to  utter 
falsehood  in  self-defense,  and  have  justified  Peter's  crime 
because  the  meddlesome  persons  who  asked  him  about  his 
discipleship  had  no  right  to  ply  him  with  such  queries. 
But  no  man  is  justified  in  any  circumstances  in  order  to 
secure  any  good,  to  violate  the  law  of  veracity.     And  yet 


30  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD 

we  can  see  at  once  how  strong  must  have  been  Peter's 
inducement,  while  in  the  splendid  palace  of  the  hierarch, 
and  surrounded  by  the  proud  enemies  of  the  Messiah,  to 
fawn  for  their  favor  and  to  struggle  against  their  resent- 
ment. Just  so  certainly  as  he  went  among  the  officers  he 
would  fall.  He  ought  to  have  remembered  that  he  had 
been  a  sailor,  and  that  sailors  are  apt  to  use  profane  lan- 
guage, and  that  his  old  habit  of  hearing,  and  perhaps  of 
uttering  oaths  would  predispose  him  to  swear  if  he  became 
excited;  to  swear  without  thinking,  as  familiar  words  will 
spring  out  before  we  know  they  are  coming.  He  ought, 
therefore,  to  have  anticipated  the  mysterious  influence  of 
temptation,  especially  to  wonted  sins,  to  have  said  with 
David,  "I  have  hated  the  congregation  of  evil  doers ;  and 
will  not  sit  with  the  wicked."  How  appropriate  was  our 
Lord's  repeated  injunction  to  Peter,  "Watch  ye  and  pray, 
lest  ye  enter  into  temptation."  We  are  not  only  for- 
bidden to  commit  sin,  but  forbidden  to  expose  ourselves 
to  it.  Evil  companions  are  more  dangerous  in  the  high 
priest's  palace  than  in  the  debauchee's  fiovel.  Wealth, 
splendor  and  power  lend  attractions  to  wickedness,  and 
it  is  no  more  safe  to  associate  for  pleasure  A\ath  ungodly 
men  in  high  places  than  to  put  fire  into  our  bosoms.  Not 
at  all  uncommon  is  it  for  pretended  friends  of  Christ  when 
in  converse  with  fascinating  sinners,  especially  when  in 
prospect  of  obtaining  from  them  some  selfish  good,  to  say 
by  their  actions  as  loud  as  Peter  said  by  his  words,  "  We 
do  not  know  Jesus  of  Nazareth;  neither  his  doctrine  nor 
his   spirit."     They   fear  to  press   his   commands,  to   stand 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD  31 

upright  for  his  truth.    They  even  blush  when  their  reUgious 

calhng  is  alluded  to  by  such  men  as  Caiaphas  the  judge  and 

Pilate  the  governor.    The  sin  of  denying  Christ  before  men 

whom  we  respect  or  fear  is  the  prevailing  sin  of  the  present 

day ;  and  yet  we  are  lavish  in  our  condemnation  of  Peter, 

who  denied  not  for  popularity  alone    but  for  safety,  for 

life — not    deliberately,    as    we,    but    under    a    pressure    of 

strong  temptation.     Beware  of  such  temptation.     Repress 

your  love  of  popular  applause.     Is  there  any  fascinating 

sinner  among  you?     Shun  him   except  to  do  him   good. 

Go  not  into  his  society  for  the  pleasure  of  it.     That  pleasure 

allures  unto  devious  ways.     Put  a  millstone  around  your 

neck,  and  go  down  into  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  rather  than 

seek  your  repose  and  comfort  among  men  who  may  tempt 

you  to  a  selfish  and  unfaithful  life. 

Secondly,  the  denial  of  Peter    illustrates  the  folly  and 

danger  of  self-confidence.      When  this  apostle,  speaking 

of  his  beloved  brother  Paul,  says  that  in  his  epistle  are 

some  things  hard  to  be  understood,  he  probably  had  no 

reference  to  what  Paul  said  about  him  that  thinketh  he 

standeth,  that  he  should  take  heed  lest  he  fall.     This  was 

all  plain  to  Simon  Peter.       If  the  erring  disciple  had  not 

felt,  at  first,  that  he  was  a  rock,  and  could  never  be  moved, 

he  would  not  have  ventured  without  precautionary  thought 

into  the  circle  of  dignified  sinners,  nor  hazarded  his  life 

without  imploring  help  to  sacrifice  it  for  his  duty.    Says  Dr. 

Young : 

"Temptations  seize  when  fear  is  laid  asleep, 
And  ill,  foreboded,  is  our  strongest  guard." 

Point  to  any  man  who  feels  that  he  is  in  no  danger  of 


32  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD 

sinning,  and  he  is  in  so  much  the  greater  peril  for  the  very 
thought.  He  is  walking  on  the  utmost  verge  of  a  preci- 
pice, and  dreams  that  he  is  walking  on  a  wide  plain.  He 
is  less  guarded  than  if  he  were  afraid;  uses  fewer  means 
of  security,  falls  the  sooner.  He  has  never  disciplined  him- 
self to  encounter  perils  by  bringing  them  into  clear  view. 
He  is  bold  in  regard  to  distant  evils,  but  yields  to  them  as 
they  approach.  Are  we  stronger  men  than  David  and  Peter  ? 
Have  they  not  been  held  up  to  us  as  monuments  of  human 
frailty,  as  beacons  to  guard  us  against  trusting  in  ourselves? 
Why  may  not  we  lapse  as  they  did?  Why  not  the  most 
conscientious  of  us  be  left  to  falsehood,  to  perjury  and  blas- 
phemy and  murder?  Do  you  think,  my  hearers,  that  you 
could  ever  reach  a  depth  of  sin  equal  to  that  of  the  tempted 
disdiple?  No,  you  say,  and  Peter  said  No  before  you, 
just  as  decisively  as  you.  Is  thy  servant  a  dog  that  he 
should  do  this  great  thing?  Yes,  yes,  my  friend.  In  your- 
self nothing  better,  with  all  your  talents,  with  all  your 
strength,  with  all  your  accomplishments,  whosoever  you 
may  be,  your  character  is  written  on  your  forehead,  a  worm 
and  no  man.  So  far  as  you  and  I  are  concerned,  there  is 
no  faith  to  be  reposed  in  us,  bereft  of  the  grace  of  God,  but 
that  this  day  we  shall  commit  a  sin  which  will  bring  re- 
proach upon  ourselves  and  disgrace  upon  the  church. 
God  alone  must  be  exalted  and  every  man  abased  in  that 
day. 

Thirdly,  we  may  learn  from  Peter's  denial  the  impor- 
tance of  preserving  a  habitual  sensitiveness  to  the  turpi- 
tude of  sin.     Our  danger  arises  from  the  sudden  onset  of 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD  33 

temptation.  Almost  every  disciple  who  lapses  into  gross 
transgressions,  says :  "  If  there  had  been  a  longer  time  for 
me  to  reflect,  I  should  not  have  been  beguiled."  His  con- 
science was  asleep ;  then  temptation  surprised  him.  His 
resolution  was  unnerved ;  he  had  but  few,  too  few  moments 
to  nerve  it  up.  Ere  his  fleeting,  unstable  piety  could  be 
summoned  to  resistance,  the  deed  was  done. 

If  he  had  reflected  habitually  on  the  baseness  of  sin,  he 
would  have  been  prepared  for  the  sudden  emergency.  He 
would  have  had  less  temptation,  and  more  power  to  resist 
what  he  had.  As  the  enemy,  intent  on  sacking  a  city,  fly 
with  the  greatest  eagerness  to  the  open  gate,  the  forsaken 
tower,  the  weak  breastwork,  rather  than  to  the  places 
strongly  barred,  fortified  and  manned,  so  our  arch  enemy 
chooses  to  assail  us  in  our  most  defenceless  state,  and  to 
finish  his  work  upon  us  before  we  collect  our  scattered  ar- 
mor, and  mend  our  broken  shields.  The  first  denial  of 
Peter,  that  one  unpremeditated  sin,  led  him  into  a  labyrinth 
of  other  crimes,  from  which  he  was  not  relieved  until  Jesus 
turned  and  looked  upon  him.  Had  he  thought,  had  he  at 
first  taken  into  view  the  evil  of  falsehood,  he  would  not 
have  lifted  up  the  flood-gate ;  in  one  moment  he  lifted  it, 
and  then  for  hours  the  torrents  poured  through. 

A  nice  regard  to  truth,  especially  in  little  things,  will  save 
us  from  ten  thousand  little  deviations,  which  will  wind 
us  into  inextricable  mazes.  No  sin  is  so  prolific  as  that  of 
the  tongue.  One  falsehood  is  the  precursor  of  crimes 
which  seem  to  have  no  connection  with  it.  More  than  any 
other  sin,  falsehood  should  be  resisted  in  its  beginnings. 


34  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD 

Those  little  falsehoods,  those  unmeaning,  complimentary, 
polite  Hes,  they  deaden  the  sensibility,  they  benumb  the 
conscience,  they  sink  the  soul  into  the  meanest  obliquities. 
The  parent  should  make  his  child  vow  against  the  smallest 

(equivocation,  what  Amilcar  made  young  Hannibal  swear 
against  the  Romans,  perpetual  hatred.  This  is  the  lesson 
which  Simon  Peter  should  have  learned  before  his  fall,  and 
he  did  learn  after  it,  and  therefore  in  the  lapse  of  a  few 
weeks  he  asked  a  mendacious  man,  "Why  hath  Satan  filled 
thine  heart  to  lie  to  the  Holy  Ghost?"  and  then  three  hours 
afterward  he  said  to  the  woman,  "Behold  the  feet  of  them 
which  have  buried  thy  husband  are  at  the  door." 

Fourthly,  the  sin  of  one  who  pretends  to  be  a  disciple  of 
Christ  brings  an  especial  dishonor  upon  Christ  himself.  In 
the  estimation  of  the  world,  Peter  was  identified  with  his 
Master.  His  actions  were  representative  of  the  deeds  of 
Christ.  His  words  were  a  specimen  of  the  sayings  of  Christ. 
His  example  was  the  best  means  men  had  of  determining 
the  Saviour's  merits.  When  he  rushed  out  to  weep,  he  let 
all  the  bystanders  know  that  it  was  the  mention  of  the  truth 
alone  which  had  made  him  blaspheme.  If  then  the  scholar 
be  so  passionate,  how  must  the  teacher  be  regarded !  This 
was  the  most  eminent  of  the  disciples.  Is  not  that  a  de- 
moralizing school  where  the  most  forward  pupil  is  so  pro- 
fane? Reasoning  thus,  it  may  be  that  some  around  the  pal- 
ace fire  that  night  were  permanently  influenced  against 
Christianity  by  the  angry  look  of  the  blasphemer,  and  while 
he  is  in  heaven  their  souls  may  be  enduring  the  conse- 
quences of  his  blasphemy.     Doubtless  Christ  was  in  some 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD  35 

respects  more  grieved  at  the  baseness  of  Peter's  denials 
than  at  all  the  impudence  and  cruelty  of  Caiaphas.  And  he 
is,  in  some  respects,  more  affected  now  by  the  inconsis- 
tencies of  those  who  pretend  to  represent  him  than  by  the 
scandals  of  those  who  know  him  not.  It  is  our  unfaithful- 
ness, my  brethren,  that  creates  for  the  impenitent  their 
most  specious  excuses  and  gives  them  the  opiate  that  lulls 
them  into  a  spiritual  sleep,  which  may  never  know  a  wak- 
ing. Should  we  expect  that  He  would  be  wounded  in  the 
house  of  his  friends?  Could  we  suppose  that  after  having 
eaten  of  thei  bread  and  drunk  of  the  cup,  we  should  so  soon 
crucify  him  afresh?  For  this,  for  nothing  more  than  this, 
does  Christ  utter  the  inviting  words,  My  body,  eat  ye  of  it; 
my  blood,  drink  of  it;  yea,  eat  and)  drink,  without  money 
and  without  price.  Is  this  repeated  denial  of  him  all  the  re- 
ward which  is  due  for  his  amazing  love? 

Fifthly,  the  sin  of  Peter,  like  that  of  every  other  man, 
was  conformed  to  his  constitutional  temperament.  His 
temperament,  like  that  of  every  other  man,  had  its  peculiar 
advantages  and  its  peculiar  evils.  It  allured  him  to  a  par- 
ticular class  of  sins,  and  aided  him  in  a  particular  class  of 
duties.  Whenever  he  is  mentioned  in  the  Gospels,  it  is  in 
connection  with  somewhat  marked  and  unique.  All  his 
acts  were  those  of  Simon  Peter,  son  of  Jonas.  Is  Jesus 
walking  on  the  sea?  Peter  must  walk  in  the  same  way, 
while  his  comrades  remain  in  the  boat.  Is  Jesus  on  the 
shore?  Peter  must  gird  his  fisher's  coat  about  him,  and 
cast  himself  into  the  water.  When  Christ  is  transfigured 
on  the  mountain,  all  the  disciples  are  amazed,  but  Peter 


36  PETER'S   DENIALS    OF   HIS   LORD 

must  needs  cry  out,  "Lord,  ...  let  us  make  three  taber- 
nacles ;  one  for  thee,  and  one  for  Moses,  and  one  for  Elias." 
What  did  the  man  mean  by  this  strange  request?  What  did 
he  mean?  "Not  knowing,"  saith  the  historian,  "what  he 
said ;"  "for  he  wist  not,"  said  another,  "what  to  say ;  because 
he  was  sore  afraid."  But  he  is  Simon  Peter :  he  must  be  for- 
ward ;  he  must  say  something.  When  Christ  is  assaulted  in 
the  garden,  all  the  other  disciples  are  affrighted,  but  Peter 
draws  a  sword  and  attempts  to  pierce  the  head  itself  of  a 
soldier,  but  in  his  haste,  he  only  smites  off  an  ear.  Rash 
man !  It  is  to  be  expected  that  he  will  be  rash  also  in  his 
sins  ;  that  he  will  do  something  startling ;  something  unique, 
something  altogether  his  own.  Not  one  of  the  converted 
eleven  was  so  boastful  as  he,  that  he  never  would  forsake 
his  Lord ;  and  in  six  hours  afterwards,  he  was  the  only  one 
of  the  converted  eleven  bold  enough  to  venture  on  so  sin- 
gular a  denial.  The  truth  is  that  his  energetic  soul,  always 
full  of  some  one  subject,  was  now  full  of  a  curiosity  to  see 
the  end  of  the  trial.  The  passion  for  seeing  the  end  ab- 
sorbed all  his  attention,  and  prevented  him  from  seeing  his 
own  danger.  And  when  this  danger  had  at  last  engulfed 
him,  the  violence  of  his  desire  to  see  the  end  gave  way  toi  an 
equal  violence  of  remorse,  as  a  few  moments  before  he 
was  blinded  to  all  things  but  that  of  seeing  the  end.  So, 
now,  he  can  think  of  nothing  but  his  crime !  his  crime !  He 
weeps,  not  as  other  men  weep,  but  bitterly.  In  a  few  min- 
utes and  he  could  see  the  end,  but  he  has  now  lost  his  de- 
sire, and  he  rushes  out  from  the  palace,  enveloped  in  sorrow 
for  his  sin,  not  a  persevering  sin,  but  one  which  in  six  hours 
after  its  commission  he  forsakes  and  abhors 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS    LORD  37 

"The  needle  which  in  the  shaken  compass  flew  hither  and  thither, 
At  last,  .long  quivering,  poises  to  the  north." 

So  the  heart  of  the  disciple,  after  its  trembling  and  os- 
cillating turned  promptly  to  his  Lord.  No  one  can  tell 
the  distress,  the  aching  of  the  heart,  the  pain  of  the 
bones,  the  wringing  of  the  whole  system  in  anguish 
which  the  penitent  endured.  He  then  felt  as  a  hum- 
ble preacher  has  since  declared  of  himself,  that  his 
very  repentance  needed  to  be  repented  of,  and  his  very 
tears  needed  to  be  washed  in  some  sacrificial  blood. 
He  had  no  excuse  to  plead.  He  did  not  say,  as  would  some 
modern  transgressors,  "It  was  foretold  that  I  should  deny 
Christ ;  therefore  it  was  certain,  therefore  it  was  decreed, 
and  therefore  I  am  not  blamable  for  having  accomplished 
a  decree."  Neither  did  he  palliate  his  crime  by  pointing  to 
the  good  results,  the  admonitory  lessons  coming  from  it  to 
himself  and  to  the  Church — lessons  that  may  come  to  us 
this  day,  and  to  all  men  in  all  time.  He  thinks  of  only  one 
thing,  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  his  sin.  We  can  almost 
hear  him  use  the  strong  phraseology  of  his  epistle,  which 
some  suppose  was  suggested  to  him  by  the  perils  of  that 
night:  "I  am  a  dog,  returned  again  to  my  vomit;  like  a 
swine  that  was  washed,  I  have  gone  back  again  to  my  wal- 
lowing in  the  mire."  It  is  reported  by  some  of  the  ancients 
that  from  this  evening  until  his  dying  day,  Peter  never  heard 
the  crowing  of  a  cock  without  bursting  into  tears.  True  or 
false,  it  is  a  good  representation  of  the  strength  of  his 
agony. 

And  yet,  after  he  had  sunk  as  low  as  possible  into  the  dust, 


38  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD 

he  rose  again  with  his  native  elasticity.  In  less  than  forty- 
days  we  hear  the  question,  "Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou 
me?"  "I  trust  that  I  do ;  it  is  very  hard  to  know  one's  own 
heart.  I  hope,  I  have  a  humble  hope  that  I  do."  This  is 
not  his  blushing  reply  as  he  hangs  his  head  before  the  man 
whom  he  did  not  know.  He  is  grieved  that  the  question 
should  be  asked  him.  "Lovest  thou  me?"  "Yes!  yes!  Lord, 
thou  knowest  all  things,  and  of  course  thou  knowest  that  I 
love  thee."  Nor  was  he  afraid  of  publicly  defending  the 
man  whom  he  did  not  know,  and  did  not  know  whom  men 
meant  when  they  spake  of  him.  Instead  of  slinking  back 
into  a  corner — I  have  now  brought  such  a  reproach  upon 
the  cause  of  Christ  that  it  is  imprudent  for  me  to  preach — 
he  bated  not  a  jot  or  tittle  of  heart  or  hope.  He 
went  forward  straightway  and  uttered  the  anathemas  of 
the  gospel  against  all  gainsayers.  In  less  than  two 
months  we  find  him  in  Jerusalem  lifting  up  his  voice 
to  men  out  of  every  nation  under  the  heaven,  and  pro- 
claiming to  them  intrepidly :  "Ye  men  of  Israel,  hear  these 
words.  (Hear  them  from  me ;  I  have  indeed  been  unfaith- 
ful ;  but  that  is  no  reason  why  you  should  remain  rebel- 
lious.) Jesus  of  Nazareth,  being  delivered  up  (but  the  fact 
that  he  was  delivered  up  is  no  reason  why  you  should  take 
him  sinfully,  and  do  to  him  what  your  malice  prompted), 
being  delivered  up  by  the  determinate  counsel  ...  of  God 
(but  such  a  determinate  counsel  as  left  you  free  to  avoid  the 
sin,  if  you  chose  to  avoid  it),  (you  with  wicked  hands),  I 
have  done  a  shameful  wrong  with  my  tongue,  and  you  with 
wicked  hands  have  crucified  and  slain  the  Holy  One.    Say 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD  39 

not  to  me,  Physician,  heal  thyself,  for  I  am  going  to  heal 
myself,  and  I  charge  you  in  the  name  of  the  Hig*hest  to 
make  yourselves  pure  from  the  blood  of  this  righteous  man. 
Say  not  to  me.  Cast  the  beam  out  of  thine  own  eye.  I  have 
cast  it  out  through  grace ;  and  because  my  vision  has  been 
disordered,  that  were  a  miserable  reason  why  your  vision 
should  continue  to  be  disordered.  True,  I  have  done  one 
grievous  wrong,  but  that  were  a  wretched  apology  for  my 
doing  a  second  grievous  wrong,  in  refusing  to  exhort  you 
to  do  right." 

And  when  they  were  pricked  in  their  heart,  and  asked, 
"What  shall  we  do?"  the  bold  man  answered  as  if  he  had 
never  exposed  himself  to  the  least  suspicion  of  a  fault,  "Save 
yourselves  from  this  untoward  generation.  What  if  I  have 
been  untoward,  save  yourselves  from  this  untoward  gener- 
ation." Soon  after  this,  we  find  him  before  the  whole  Jewish 
council,  and  though  he  once  cowered  and  quailed  before 
their  maid-servants,  he  now,  in  severe  rebuke,  cuts  the  whole 
Sanhedrin  to  the  heart.  Do  his  former  comrades  write 
epistles?  He  writes  also  and  fills  them  with  denunciation 
against  sin  and  incitement  to  fidelity.  His  crime  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  confess  and  publish  to  the  world.  It  is  the  testi- 
mony of  some  of  the  ancients  that  Mark  wrote  his  Gospel 
from  the  things  which  had  been  rehearsed  by  Peter ;  that  he 
submitted  his  Gospel  before  it  was  published  to  Peter's  re- 
visal,  secured  the  apostle's  approbation  of  it,  and  thereby 
made  Peter  endorse  the  Gospel  so  as  to  warrant  some  in 
calling  it  "The  Gospel  according  to  Peter."  Yet  Mark  is 
more  circumstantial  than  any  in  recording  the  apostle's  dis- 


40  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD 

grace.  The  guilty  man  himself  employed  Mark  as  an  aman- 
uensis to  make  this  mournful  story  known  to  all  men,  to  the 
latest  age.  And  yet  this  same  transgressor,  in  his  epistles 
which  he  knew  would  go  bound  up  with  his  gospel  to  the 
future  times,  hesitates  not  to  exclaim,  These  men,  natural 
brute  beasts — spots  and  blemishes — wells  without  water, 
clouds  carried  with  a  tempest — that  speak  great  swelling 
words  of  vanity — if  they  are  entangled  and  overcome — bet- 
ter for  them  not  to  have  known  the  way  of  righteousness. 

And  Peter,  Abdias  relates,  approaching  the  cross  on 
which  he  was  to  be  martyred,  asked  that  he  might  be  fixed 
upon  it  with  his  feet  turned  upward.  St.  Chrysostom  is  in 
ecstasy  when  he  records  this  fact.  "Rejoice,"  he  cries  out, 
"rejoice,  O  Peter,  for  you  have  now  tasted  the  cross,  and 
you  could  not  aspire  to  the  honor  of  doing  it  as  your  Sav- 
iour did,  in  an  erect  posture,  but  rather  turned  upon  your 
head,  with  your  feet  aloft,  as  if  you  were  to  walk  from  earth 
up  to  the  skies.  Behold  the  man,  Simon  Peter,  the  bold 
sinner,  the  bolder  saint !" 

Behold  him,  as  the  great  painters  have  shown  him,  with 
his  head  inverted,  surcharged  with  blood,  his  feet  nailed  to 
the  top  of  the  cross,  his  hands  to  the  base.  He  is  just  enter- 
ing heaven.  Behold  the  man ! — forward  to  the  last  in  duty, 
peculiar  to  the  last  in  self-denial — ^that  is  the  man ;  nobody 
else ;  his  individuality  secure ;  Simon  Peter,  son  of  Jonas, 
going  into  heaven  as  none  ever  went  before,  and  none,  save 
his  own  imitators,  ever  went  after  him.  And  when  that  suf- 
ferer passed  through  the  door  of  Paradise,  turning  as  it  did 
on  golden  hinges,  was  he  not  received,  think  you,  by  his 


PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD  41 

fellow  saints  with  an  enthusiasm  altogether  novel?  He  was 
the  rock  on  which  the  Church  had  been  built.  He  had  held 
the  keys  of  life  and  death.  He  had  been  a  leader  of  the 
brave  band  of  Christians  on  earth ;  had  been  a  valiant,  a  vic- 
torious soldier  of  the  cross ;  a  pioneer  in  Christian  martyr- 
dom ;  had  given  up  his  all,  the  mighty  energies  of  his  body, 
the  restless  untamable  vigor  of  his  feelings,  all  for  the  de- 
spised Nazarene. 

On  the  Sabbath  morning  when  that  Nazarene  was  raised 
from  his  tomb  one  of  the  angels  said,  '"'Go.  .  .  .  tell  his  dis- 
ciples and  Peter,  that  he  goeth  before  you  into  Galilee."  Pe- 
ter was  one  of  his  disciples,  but  it  is  the  disciples  and  Peter 
who  are  reunited  in  Paradise.  There  he  is,  this  morning,  a 
bright  spirit,  his  eye  beaming  with  celestial  luster,  un- 
wonted even  in  that  brilliant  circle ;  his  voice  swelling  in  a 
melody  (and  a  loudness  even)  above  the  other  voices  which 
are  all  a  choral  symphony,  harmonious  numbers  sweet.  He 
presses  up  round  the  throne  nearer  than  others,  for  he  is 
Simon  Peter.  He  leaps  in  ecstasy  more  joyous  than  others, 
for  he  is  Simon  Peter.  He  no  longer  wraps  his  fisher's  coat 
about  him,  for  he  has  exchanged  it  for  a  white  robe.  No 
more  does  he  sit,  mending  his  ragged  net,  for  he  was  long 
ago  made  a  fisher  of  men,  women  and  children.  No  longer 
does  he  sail  on  a  terrestrial  sea,  but  walks  as  aj  king  and  a 
priest  by  the  crystal  river,  that  floweth  hard  by  the  throne 
of  God.  No  more  disputes  now  with  his  brother  apostles. 
He  was  once  at  variance  wuth  some  of  them,  but  now  he 
has  done  with  his  disputation.  'T  withstood  him  to  the 
face,"  says  Paul  of  him,  "because  he  was  to  be  blamed." 


42  PETER'S   DENIALS   OF   HIS   LORD 

But  Paul  no  longer  withstands  him — Peter  is  no  longer  to 
be  blamed.  The  reprover  and  the  reproved  now  face  to 
face  smile  on  each  other  as  two  yokefellows,  different  in 
disposition  and  yet  one,  who  have  passed  through  great 
tribulation  and  their  souls  escaped  as  a  bird  out  of  the  snare 
of  the  fowler. 

Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  Christ?  No  more  of 
these  suspicions !  No  more  grief  in  that  ardent  soul.  We 
love,  we  love  that  noble  apostle !  Interesting  even  in  his 
foibles ;  majestic,  sublime  in  his  virtues.  God  grant  that 
his  mantle  may  fall  on  us,  and  that  we  may  strike  hands 
with  him  in  the  home  of  the  redeemed !  Whenever  we  are 
weeping  bitterly  for  our  sins,  then  may  Jesus  turn  and  look 
upon  us  in  his  mild,  forgiving  love,  and  at  last  may  he  join 
us  to  that  glorious  company  of  his  apostles,  the  noble  army 
of  his  martyrs,  and  crown  both  us  and  them  with  everlast- 
ing crowns ! 


JUDAS 


See  introduction  to  previous  sermon,  "Peter's  Denials  of  his  Lord." 


JUDAS 

"The  Son  of  man  goeth  as  it  is  written  of  him:  hut  woe  unto  that 
man  by  whom  the  Son  of  man  is  betrayed!  it  had  been  good  for  that 
man  if  he  had  not  been  born." — Matt.  26 :  24. 

There  is  a  superhuman  element  in  the  history  of  our 
Lord  during  the  six  days  preceding  his  death.  On  Sat- 
urday he  took  his  Sabbath  day's  journey  to  the  small  vil- 
lage where  he  was  to  spend  five  nights  of  that  sorrow- 
ful week.  On  Sunday  he  made  his  triumphal  entrance 
into  the  city  where  he  was  to  hang  between  two  thieves. 
On  Monday,  as  if  he  were  a  prince,  he  purified  the  temple, 
and  on  Tuesday  he  delivered  in  it  one  of  the  most  impres- 
sive of  his  discourses.  After  he  had  predicted  the  final 
judgment,  and  then  commented  on  the  architecture  of  the 
temple  edifice,  he  took  his  usual  afternoon's  walk  to  Beth- 
any, and  on  his  way  uttered  such  a  lament  over  Jerusalem 
as  has  arrested  the  attention  of  rhetoricians,  and  they  have 
pronounced  it  a  model  of  pathetic  eloquence.  On  Tuesday 
evening  after  these  afflictive  scenes,  we  find  him  at  a  feast 
in  the  house  of  Simon  the  leper.  If  you  ever  visit  Beth- 
any you  will  be  told  of  the  very  spot  where  was  the  house 
in  which  he  partook  of  that  feast.  You  may  not  believe 
you  are  standing  on  the  identical  spot,  but  you  will  be  cer- 
tain that  you  are  standing  very  near  it.  Here  a  multitude  of 
thoughts  will  throng  your  mind.  Here  was  entertained  the 


46  JUDAS 

young  man  who  was  to  be  executed  after  two  days  as  it 
were  on  a  gallows ;  and  yet  who  was  confidently  foretelling 
his  own  glories  on  earth.  Here  he  uttered  one  sentence, 
which  proves  that  even  in  view  of  his  disgrace  on  the  cross, 
he  cherished  a  regard  for  the  fame  of  himself  and  his 
friends.  On  or  near  this  identical  spot,  in  this  humble  vil- 
lage, the  young  man,  as  if  he  were  a  lawgiver,  pronounced 
one  sentence  which  was  to  afifect  the  progress  of  the  fine 
arts  among  the  most  cultivated  nations  of  the  earth.  Even 
in  1874  the  question  presents  itself  to  philanthropists :  Shall 
we  regulate  our  pecuniary  expenses  according  to  the  stand- 
ard of  our  physical  needs,  or  shall  we  use  our  money  in 
cultivating  our  taste  for  the  beautiful?  In  1874  men  are 
suffering  for  want  of  food,  for  want  of  clothing,  for  want 
of  that  knowledge  which  may  save  their  souls.  Shall  we, 
then,  indulge  ourselves  in  expenditures  for  the  fine  arts? 
Close  for  a  moment  the  volume  of  history,  and  imagine  that 
the  young  man  who,  so  near  his  cross,  might  be  pardoned 
for  taking  gloomy  views  of  life,  had  uttered  the  imagined 
sentence  in  favor  of  spending  all  our  money  in  relieving 
the  immediate  necessities  of  the  soul.  That  one  sentence 
would  have  prevented  the  erection  of  Michael  Angelo's 
cathedrals,  the  fashioning  of  Canova's  eloquent  statues,  the 
painting  of  Raphael's  breathing  pictures,  the  composing  of 
Handel's  oratorios  which  are  like  the  chorus  of  angels. 
That  one  sentence  pronounced  on  the  little  hill  of  Bethany, 
would  have  denuded  our  houses  of  their  pictures  and  speak- 
ing marbles  and  we  should  have  lived  the  prosaic  life  of 
men  who  spend  nothing  for  what  they  can  live  without. 


JUDAS  47 

Did  the  young  man  in  the  gloom  of  that  depressing  week 
utter  that  one  sentence  which  was  to  be  the  rule  of  the 
strictest  economy?  Did  he?  Open  now  the  volume  of  his- 
tory. When  Simon  the  leper  made  his  memorable  feast, 
it  was  fitting  for  him  to  invite  Lazarus,  Martha  and  Mary, 
three  neighbors  of  Simon,  and  special  friends  of  Jesus.  The 
etiquette  of  that  day,  as  of  this,  required  that  the  family 
with  which  a  guest  was  sojourning  be  called  to  the  enter- 
tainment which  was  given  for  him,  Mary  brought  to  the 
feast  an  alabaster  vase,  sealed  with  wax,  and  filled  with  the 
richest  of  all  aromatic  substances,  the  nard.  Judas  Iscariot, 
who  well  understood  the  prices  of  such  articles,  estimated 
this  vase  of  nard  to  be  worth  forty-five  dollars.  It  was  the 
kind  of  ointment  with  which  the  most  opulent  Orientals 
were  accustomed  to  anoint  the  head  of  a  distinguished 
guest.  Mary  poured  it  upon  the  feet  of  her  guest.  The 
wealthy  princes  used  it  sparingly ;  she  used  it  profusely. 
They  diluted  it ;  she  presented  it  unadulterated.  She 
might  have  wiped  the  feet  with  a  towel  near  at  hand,  but 
she  chose  to  wipe  them  with  the  hair  of  her  head.  It  was 
humility  and  love  indeed !  Her  brother  Lazarus  had  lain 
dead  four  days,  but  she  remembered — and  gratitude  is  the 
memory  of  her  heart — how  at  his  grave  Jesus  wept ;  and 
how  he  said,  "Lazarus,  come  forth." 

Hers  was  a  noble  sentiment,  that  Christ  as  the  Messiah 
should  be  honored  generously,  and  as  a  friend  should  be 
gratified  with  all  that  may  regale  a  pure  spirit.  Her  theory 
was  that  silver  and  gold  must  be  sacrificed  to  the  expres- 
sion of  esteem  for  worth,  and  luxuries  are  duties  when  thev 


48  JUDAS 

are  needed  in  the  overflowing  of  a  thankful  virtue.  The 
disciples  of  Christ,  however,  could  not  understand  this 
philosophy  at  that  time.  When  the  room  was  filled  with 
the  fragrance  of  the  nard  they  were  troubled.  It  seemed 
to  them  an  extravagant  waste  of  money.  That  oil  from  the 
Indies  could  neither  be  eaten  nor  drunk ;  nor  would  it  min- 
ister to  any  pressing  need.  Judas  was  particularly  grieved 
that  so  much  money  should  be  expended  without  any  cry- 
ing want.  lie  could  see  no^  meaning  in  the  generous  unc- 
tion. He  calculated  its  value,  but  could  not  calculate  its  in- 
fluence on  the  finer  feelings  of  the  soul.  Having  figured 
out  the  price  of  the  spikenard,  he  would  have  advised  to 
sell  it,  (with  him  everything  was  to  be  sold) ;  to  sell  it 
for  five  and  forty  dollars,  three  hundred  pence.  To  sell 
it  was  his  plan — not  from  any  avaricious  motive,  as  he 
would  have  it  thought ;  and  perhaps  his  reason  and  con- 
science approved  of  the  plan  to  sell  it  and  give  the  avails 
to  the  poor.  And  are  there  not  some  zealous  Christians 
who  would  censure  the  imprudence  of  a  man  for  giving 
away  so  large  a  proportion  of  his  income  as  was  given  by 
this  generous  woman?  Are  there  not  also  many  seeming 
philanthropists  who  sneer  at  the  missionary  outfit  as  some- 
thing which  might  have  been  sold  for  much  and  given  to 
the  poor  of  our  own  land?  They  regard  their  course  as 
the  only  judicious  one,  and  would  regard  you  as  merely 
censorious  if  you  should  intimate  that  they  were  prompted 
by  Judas  Iscariot's  love  to  the  poor  in  refusing  the  pres- 
ent charity,  and  preferring  some  other  charity,  in  some 
different  way,  at  some  future  time — which  time  too  often 


JUDAS  49 

comes  with  tardy  wheels.  This  is  never  avarice.  This — 
avarice?  This  is  but  a  sorry  remnant  of  Judas  Iscariot's 
love  for  the  poor. 

Jesus  Christ  would  gather  up  the  fragments  that  noth- 
ing be  lost.  Yet  he  was  no  utilitarian  in  his  religion.  Not 
more  sweetly  did  the  balsam  perfume  the  feast  room,  than 
did  the  character  of  her  who  poured  it ;  he  made  it  redo- 
lent of  all  that  is  noble.  He  condemned  the  starveling 
economy  of  Judas,  and  showed  that  whatever  elicits  one 
noble  feeling,  or  soothes  one  broken  spirit,  or  calms  one 
rufifled  temper,  or  lightens  up  in  smiles  one  downcast  face; 
whatever  honors  the  Messiah,  and  glorifies  God,  and  makes 
religion  venerable,  that  is  the  highest  style  of  usefulness. 
Therefore  the  one  sentence  which  our  Lord  pronounced 
in  the  house  of  Simon  the  leper  was:  "Let  her  alone;  why 
trouble  ye  her?  she  hath  wrought  a  good  work  on  me.  .  .  . 
Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Wheresoever  this  gospel  shall  be 
preached  throughout  the,  whole  world,  this  also  that  she 
hath  done  shall  be  spoken  of  for  a  memorial  of  her."  By 
this  commendation  he  gave  that  woman's  name  in  charge 
to  the  sweet  lyre ;  and  the  historic  muse,  glad  of  the  treas- 
ure, will  mardh  with  that  name  down  to  the  end  of  time ; 
and  sculpture,  in  her  turn,  will  give  bonds  in  stone  and  ever- 
during  brass  to  guard  that  name  and  to  immortalize  her 
trust. 

The  truth  seems  to  be  that  Iscariot  had  his  private  rea- 
sons for  opposing  this  waste  of  the  spikenard.  He  would 
fain  trade  with  it.  He  loved  the  handling  of  money,  even 
when  it  was  not  his  own.     But  the  apostle  John,  with  all 


50  JUDAS 

his  mildness,  intimates  that  the  treasurer  of  the  disciples 
was  in  the  habit  of  purloining  for  his  individual  use  the  con- 
tents of  the  common  purse.  The  loss  of  the  nard,  which 
was  worth  so  much,  was  therefore  a  personal  loss  to  this 
pretended  friend  of  the  poor.  He  seems  to  have  reasoned 
thus  with  himself:  "When  I  became  a  disciple  of  the  Mes- 
siah, I  expected  that  he  would  assume  a  temporal  throne 
and  that  he  would  raise  me  tO'  the  wealth  of  a  prince  at  his 
right  hand.  Having  waited  three  long  years,  I  now  learn 
that  his  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,  but  is  a  kingdom 
of  mere  spirituality,  and  this  spirituality  will  yield  me  but 
a  meager  living.  Can  I  not  make  more  money  than  by 
remaining  the  treasurer  of  this  beggarly  band,  of  whom 
the  Master  says — land  how  weary  I  am  of  hearing  those 
words  repeated  and  reiterated  again  and  again! — 'Ye  have 
the  poor  always  with  you'?  As  well  as  not  I  might  have 
put  into  my  purse  these  three  hundred  silver  denarii,  which 
were  wasted  on  my  Master;  for  he  might  have  sup- 
ported himself  without  them.  But  he  applauded  the  woman 
for  her  lavish  bounty,  and  rebuked  me  as  if  my  care  for 
the  poor  was  but  the  greed  of  a  miser.  And  I  cannot  for- 
get that  question  which  he  asked  more  than  a  year  ago, 
and  which  he  pointed  at  me.  I  could  never  get  away  from 
the  suspicion  that  he  pointed  at  me  those  sharp  words: 
'Have  not  I  chosen  you  twelve,  and  one  of  you  is  a  devil?'  " 
These  were  sharp  words.  The  words  of  the  wise  are 
as  goads,  and  faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend.  And  If 
the  avarice  of  Judas  had  not  contracted  his  mind  into  a 
petty  jealousy,  he   would  have  thanked  his  reprover  for 


JUDAS  51 

those  sharp  words;  but  he  cherished  a  retaliatory  spirit. 
Is  it  strange  that  he  was  revengeful?    Any  one  sin  brings 
a  thousand  in  its  train.    He  had  nurtured  a  love  of  money, 
and  this,  like  every  individual  sin,  germinates  into  others. 
Is  it  strange  that  he  is  prepared  now  for  a  desperate  crime? 
He  had  been  educating  himself  for  that  crime.    He  pilfered 
first  a  farthing;  then  a  denarius;  then  a  shekel;  then  a 
pound.    "My  Master  will  never  miss  the  money.    He  seems 
too  spiritual  to  concern  himself  about  my  treasury;    and 
besides,  when  he  is  in  need  of  silver,  he  has  but  tO'  speak 
the  word  and  a  fish  of  the  sea  will  surrender  the  desired 
coin.    What  harm,  then,  if  I  take  a  silver  piece  to-day  and 
a  gold  piece  to-morrow?"    What  harm?    For  Judas  was  a 
calculator  of  consequences!     But  amid  all  his  calculations 
he  forgot  the  consequences  of  a  single  sin  upon  a  grow- 
ing soul.    By  little  and  little  had  he  become  great  in  infamy. 
Never  was  the  great  sinner  made  such  in  a  day.    Step  by 
step  do  we  hourly  rise  or  sink  in  holiness  or  guilt.    If  we 
are  ever  to  commit  a  gigantic  crime,  Judas  foretells  us  the 
reason  of  it.    We  are,  or  are  to  be  schooling  ourselves  for 
that  crime.     The  child  who  tells  something  that  is  almost 
a  lie,  and  yet  not  quite,  there  is  danger  of  him  that  he  will 
be  a  liar  at  the  last.     The  youth  who  takes  a  farthing's 
worth  of  another's  property,  and  almost  means  to  steal, 
and  yet  not  quite,  for  he  means  to  return  it,  there  is  dan- 
ger of  him  that  he  will  end  his  career  as  a  thief.     If  you 
nurture  a  venial  sin  to-day,  and  a  venial  sin  to-morrow,  and 
a  venial  sin  the  third  day,  you  will  soon  be  prepared  for 
Iscariot'b  crime,  and  will  learn  that  there  is  no  venial  sin. 


52  JUDAS 

but  every  sin  is  fearful  in  its  guilt,  for,  if  unchecked,  it 
must  be  fatal  in  its  influence. 

Perhaps  on  Tuesday  nig-ht,  certainly  as  early  as  Wednes- 
day, the  traitor  had  contrived  a  plan  by  which  he  might  both 
gratify  his  irritated  spirit  and  gain  money.  Wednesday^  was 
the  day  on  which  the  Jewish  Sanhedrin  met.  They  as- 
sembled on  Mt.  Zion,  at  the  house  of  Joseph  Caiaphas. 
They  perceived  themselves  to  be  involved  in  a  dilemma. 
They  had  already  advertised  for  Jesus  without  effect. 
Therefore,  if  he  be  apprehended  at  all,  their  own 
officers  must  perform  the  work.  But  they  cannot 
apprehend  him  in  public ;  for  he  has  too  great  a  throng 
of  friends  who  will  fight  for  him.  And  they  can- 
not apprehend  him  in  private  until  the  expiration  of 
the  seven  feast  days.  Next  Thursday  evening  the  na- 
tional passover  commences ;  between  this  time  and  that 
less  than  forty  hours  intervene;  the  city  is  crowded  with 
strangers ;  no  man  is  so  popular  with  them  as  Jesus  is ;  and 
an  assault  upon  him  during  these  holidays  will  make  an 
uproar  among  the  people.  But  how  can  the  Sanhedrin 
enjoy  the  festival  while  the  numerous  visitants  at  the  capi- 
tal are  frequenting  the  by-places  of  this  attractive  teacher, 
and  are  this  week  preparing  themselves  to  disseminate  his 
influence  as  they  go  next  week  from  Jerusalem  through  all 
the  hamlets  of  Judaea?  In  their  perplexity  and  chagrin  the 
priests  are  accosted  by  a  stranger  with  the  significant 
words:  "What  will  ye  give  me?"  No  introduction,  no 
apology ;  these  are  the  first  words — dollars  and  cents.    What 

*Dr.  Robinson  supposes  that  this  scene  was  on  Wednesday  morning. 


JUDAS  •  53 

will  you  give  me,  and  I  will  deliver  up  to  you  the  foe  whom 
you  dread?  Nothing  could  be  more  timely.  No  need  now 
of  a  week's  delay.  Before  the  passover  commences  the  foe 
may  be  put  under  Roman  custody,  and  the  name  of  Rome 
will  overawe  the  insurrection.  When  the  dignitaries  heard 
it,  says  Luke,  they  were  glad.  With  an  electric  impulse 
they  turn  to  their  new  ally.  What  do  they  offer?  Pre- 
ferment in  church  or  state?  Do  they  promise:  "Whereso- 
ever the  story  of  Jesus  shall  be  told  throughout  the  whole 
world,  there  shall  thy  deed  be  spoken  of  as  a  memorial  of 
thee"?  There  are  some  deeds  to  which  the  love  of  hpnor 
is  no  allurement.  There  are  some  men  who  do  not  sin  for 
the  love  of  fame.  Judas  seems  to  have  been  a  man  of  some 
ambition,  but  of  more  avarice.  So  they  covenanted  with 
him  for  the  sum  of  $18.00;  according  to  another  but  less 
accurate  calculation,  for  the  sum  of  $14.70 ;  at  any  rate  the 
same  amount  which  the  Jewish  law  prescribed  as  the  price 
of  a  common  slave — less  than  one-half  of  the  sum  which 
in  the  view  of  Judas  was  wasted  on  the  preceding  day 
by  her  who  anointed  the  Master  for  his  burial.  What  shall 
I  render  unto  the  Lord?  was  her  magnanimous  query;  but, 
What  will  you  give  me  for  my  Lord?  was  the  question  of 
the  mercenary  disciple.  Thirty  shekels  of  silver  is  the  price 
for  the  man  who  gave  up  all  the  riches  of  heaven  for  this 
ungrateful  world.  He  is  to  be  bought  and  sold  who  re- 
deemed us  not  with  earthly  treasures,  but  by  his  own  blood. 
He  did  become  a  root  out  of  a  dry  ground,  no  form,  no 
comeliness,  no  beauty!  He  had  a  meaning  when  he  ex- 
claimed in  prophetic  story:  "I  am  a  worm,  and  no  man; 
a  reproach  of  men,  and  despised  of  the  people." 


54  JUDAS 

It  is  a  striking  fact  that  notwithstanding  the  shrewd  dis- 
ciple had  been  intimate  with  Jesus  for  three  long  years,  he 
brought  no  charge  against  him.  If  the  Messiah  had  been 
guilty  of  deception  or  manoeuvre,  this  eagle-eyed  man 
would  have  been  the  first  to  detect  it.  For  quicker  than 
the  steel  to  the  magnet  had  he  been  attracted  to  sinful  ar- 
tifice ;  but  so  far  as  intimating  that  his  Master  was  guilty, 
he  distinctly  declared  that  Christ  was  innocent.  To  live 
for  thirty-six  months  with  a  sharp-sighted  spy,  in  such  a 
way  as  to  give  that  spy  no  ground  of  reproach  or  even  sus- 
picion, is  peculiar  to  Him  who  lived  as  our  model.  It  is  a 
maxim  of  some  that  we  should  never  do  anything  before 
our  most  intimate  friends,  which  would  injure  our  char- 
acter if  those  friends  should  become  foes :  but  we  are  told 
by  other  moralists  that  we  need  not  obey  such  a  maxim. 
It  would  freeze  up  our  social  aflfections,  and  bind  as  with 
an  iron  fetter  our  intercourse  of  friendship.  We  must  some- 
times drop  an  expression  that  we  would  fain  hold  back 
from  the  ear  and  the  tongue  and  the  laugh  of  a  foe. 
Who  then  could  live  with  so  provoking  a  man  as 
Judas,  without  an  occasional  ruffling  of  a  placid  tem- 
per? Could  you  repress  your  disdain  of  the  small 
chafTerings  and  greedy  appetences  and  splenetic  words 
that  were  always  thrusting  themselves  before  the  fam- 
ily? Wherever  you  looked,  as  you  walked  your  room, 
or  sat  at  your  fireside,  or  ate  at  your  table,  these 
disgusting  and  degrading  littlenesses  would  be  leaping 
into  notice  like  the  frogs  into  Pharaoh's  kneading-troughs ; 
and  yet  your  Master  loved  that  mean  disciple.     He  knew 


JUDAS  55 

the  contracted  thoughts  and  the  low  aims  of  the  traitor, 
and  still  he  not  only  bore  with  the  man,  but  melted  in  ten- 
derness over  him.  In  everything  was  the  disciple  who  kept 
the  bag  an  exact  antipode  of  Jesus ;  in  intellect,  in  heart, 
in  manners  doubtless,  and  in  countenance;  but  after  all,  in 
the  Redeemer's  mind  was  not  one  moment's  irritation,  not 
one  single  breath  of  petulance.  All  was  calm  as  the  lake 
after  it  heard  his  soothing  voice,  "Peace,  be  still."  Ad- 
mirable example  of  family  virtue !  Beautiful  specimen  of 
that  social  forbearance  which  sufifereth  long  and  is  kind! 
Hard  lot  it  was  to  leave  the  softness  and  the  delicacy  and 
the  nobleness  of  the  angelic  choir,  and  bind  himself  to  the 
roughness  and  coarseness  and  narrowness  of  a  sordid  mi- 
ser. Spring  and  summer  came  and  went,  autumn  and  win- 
ter drew  along  their  slow  days  and  nights  while  he  ate  and 
drank,  and  journeyed  and  conversed,  with  one  whose  very 
name  is  a  synonym  for  a  hard  and  vulgar  mind.  How  truly 
was  he  a  man  of  sorrows,  when  the  fine  fibers  of  his  soul 
were  swept  so  rudely  by  the  selfish  companion  of  his  walk 
and  his  table !  Tempted  in  all  points  as  we  are,  and  yet 
without  sin !  As  the  demoniacs  were  sent  on  purpose  to 
illustrate  the  power  of  Christ,  so  Judas  was  sent  on  pur- 
pose to  illustrate  the  patience  of  Him  who  lived  as  our  mod- 
el. It  was  meet  that  he  should  be  yoked  with  some  un- 
pleasant associate,  that  he  may  be  touched  with  the  feel- 
ing of  our  infirmities.  He  qualified  himself  by  his  dark 
experience  to  be  compassionate  as  our  high  priest.  He 
knoweth  now  our  social  frame.  He  remembereth  that  in 
our  family  life  we  are  but  dust. 


y 


56  JUDAS 

On  Thursday  eve  we  find  the  treasurer  lying  down  at 
meat  with  his  fellow  disciples.  He  was  partaking  for  the 
last  time  of  the  paschal  feast.  The  Master  of  the  feast  was 
solemn,  for  in  less  than  twenty  hours  he  was  to  be  in  his 
grave.  Sorrowfully  he  rises  from  the  table  and  washes 
one  by  one  the  feet  of  each  disciple.  It  is  a  menial  service ; 
it  is  the  seal  of  his  condescension  and  his  love.  He,  the 
future  Judge  of  all  the  earth,  washes  the  feet  even  of  Judas 
Iscariot.  He  resumes  his  place  at  the  table ;  his  counte- 
nance becomes  more  and  more  dejected ;  there  is  one 
thought  weighing  down  his  spirit ;  he  can  restrain  his  grief 
no  longer.  "Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  one  of  you  shall 
deliver  me  to  my  murderers."  The  disciples  are  startled. 
"Is  it  I?"  one  ventures  to  ask,  and  then  another,  with  fear- 
ful foreboding,  "Is  it  I?"  Wishing  to  disburden  the  ami- 
able men  who,  in  this  way,  so  peculiar  to  the  pious,  dis- 
trusted each  one  himself  and  no  one  his  neighbor,  Jesus 
at  once  relieves  all  who  are  farthest  from  him  at  the  table, 
and  says,  "It  is  one  of  the  three  or  four  who  are  nearest 
to  me."  But  this  augments  the  anguish  of  two,  at  least, 
among  those  three  or  four.  One  of  them  is  John ;  another 
seems  to  have  been  Peter,  for  he  was  especially  agitated. 
He  must  know  which  one  of  the  three  or  four  the  criminal 
is.  He  sees  that  John  who  was  lying  within  a  few  inches 
of  Jesus  had  now  moved  his  head  upon  the  Master's  bosom; 
and  it  was  of  course  the  most  convenient  for  the  peculiar 
favorite  of  Jesus,  while  leaning  so  near  the  face  of  his  Lord 
to  obtain  a  secret  designation  of  the  traitorous  disciple. 
Peter  therefore  makes  a  sign  for  John  to  ask  the  question. 


JUDAS  57 

The  yielding  disciple  asks  it  probably  in  a  whisper;  and 
Jesus  whispers  back,  "The  traitor  is  the  man  to  whom  I 
shall  hand  a  morsel  of  bread  when  I  shall  have  dipped  it 
in  the  harrosheth."  This  harrosheth  was  a  rich  condiment 
made  up  of  dates,  figs,  raisins  and  similar  fruits.  The  bread 
was  dipped  into  it  to  be  made  the  more  palatable.  Mr. 
Jowett,  describing  an  Oriental  meal,  says :  "Whenever  the 
master  of  the  feast  found  any  delicious  morsel,  he  took  it 
up  in  his  fingers  and  applied  it  to  my  mouth."  This  fashion 
of  feeding  a  guest  is  true  Oriental  courtesy  and  hospital- 
ity. It  is  an  emblem  of  kindness.  Christ  used  it  not  merely 
as  a  sign  tO'  John,  but  as  a  symbol  of  love  to  Judas.  "If 
thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him ;"  the  Saviour  did  feed  him. 
In  three  hours  Jesus  was  to  be  betrayed  and  yet  he  must 
try  once  more  to  soften  down  his  betrayer  and  win  him 
back  to  virtue.  Even  to  the  last  he  longed  to  sweeten  that 
ascetic  spirit.  He  always  will  display  the  magnanimity  of 
a  friend  toward  his  thankless  foes.  Never  will  he  be  angry 
as  men  count  anger,  even  while  he  deals  the  bread  of  per- 
dition to  his  enemies.  And  at  the  final  day,  while  he  utters 
that  dread  sentence,  "Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed,"  it  shall 
be  whispered  from  one  saint  to  another:  "Behold  how  he 
loved  even  them !"  And  while  he  does  his  strange  work, 
frowning  away  the  wicked  into  ruin,  it  shall  be  said  again, 
"Behold  how  he  loved  them  even  to  the  end !"  True,  it 
will  be  the  justice  of  God  uprising  against  the  incorrigible 
sinner,  yet  it  will  be  love,  almighty  love,  pointing  that  jus- 
tice, and  making  the  sinner  speechless. 

If  the  traitor  had  felt  no  remorse,  he  would  have  been 


58  JUDAS 

pleased  with  this  mark  of  kindness  at  the  Messiah's  hand. 
He  did  not  know  it  was  designed  to  point  him  out 
as  the  criminal.  But  he  was  too  coarse  to  see  the  beauty 
of  his  Lord's  tenderness  to  him.  He  ate  the  sweetened 
bread,  for  Judjas  Iscariot  was  not  the  man  to  waste  any- 
thing, and,  says  John,  the  mildest  of  the  evangeHsts,  "After 
the  sop  Satan  entered  into  him." 

The  Redeemer  sees  that  his  magnanimity  only  exasper- 
ates Iscariot,  and  exclaims,  "That  thou  doest,  do  quickly." 
It  was  a  command  full  of  meaning.  It  was  the  act  of  in- 
choate church  discipline.  The  mild  Prince  of  peace,  on  the 
last  evening  of  his  mild  life,  was  neither  ashamed  nor  afraid 
to  excommunicate  an  unfaithful  pretender.  The  hidden 
prophetic  force  of  his  words  was,  'T  am  now  to  institute 
my  Church  in  form ;  to  celebrate  my  first  and  standard 
sacrament :  shall  a  transgressor  who  is  never  to  be  saved 
partake  of  the  pledge  of  salvation?  Shall  he  who  is  now 
under  contract  with  my  murderers  eat  of  my  body  and  drink 
of  my  blood?  It  cannot  be  fit  that  my  infant  Church  be 
stained  with  so  impure  a  communicant.  Judas,  I  am  not 
deceived  by  your  professions ;  my  hour  has  come ;  I  am 
ready  to  die.  What  thou  art  to  do  thou  knowest.  What 
thou  art  to  do  I  know ;  go  and  do  it  quickly.  I  charge  thee 
stay  no  longer  here ;  put  no  dishonor  upon  this  ever-to-be- 
remembered  and  ever-to-be-imitated  sacrament  of  my  dy- 
ing love." 

But  how  unsuspicious  were  nearly  all  the  eleven  of  the 
traitor's  insincerity !  They,  probably  nine  of  them,  had  not 
heard  the  previous  whispering,  and  when  the  laconic  order, 


JUDAS  59 

"That  thou  doest,  do  quickly,"  burst  upon  their  ears,  they 
thought  that  the  treasurer  was  ordered  to  buy  provisions 
for  the  rest  of  the  feast-week,  or  else  disburse  the  usual 
charities  to  the  poor.  So  beautifully  did  these  simple- 
hearted  men  let  out  the  incidental  proof  that  Jesus  was 
in  the  habit  of  relieving  the  poor.  The  fox  had  a  hole,  the 
bird  of  the  air  had  a  nest,  but  Jesus  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head ;  and  yet  he  gave  away ;  his  entire  life  was  a  life  of 
giving  away ;   he  died  giving  away ;  he  reigns  giving  away. 

Judas,  however,  did  not  so  misunderstand  the  mandate. 
He  had  a  seat  of  honor  at  the  table.  He  was  near  his 
Lord.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  saw  that  he  was  detected, 
and  his  honor  was  gone.  He  lifts  up  his  eyes  from  the  dish 
and  asks,  as  if  equally  blameless  with  those  who  had  asked 
long  ago,  "Master,  is  it  I?"  "You  have  said  it,"  is  the  Sav- 
iour's dignified  response.  And  the  traitor,  as  soon  as  ex- 
posed, left  the  disciples. 

While  they  were  partaking  of  their  first  eucharistic  com- 
munion, Judas  walked  more  than  a  mile,  late  in  the  evening, 
to  the  house  of  Joseph  Caiaphas.  Gresswell  says  it  was  the 
temple.  Eager  to  gratify  his  ire  and  earn  his  money,  he 
offers  to  conduct  the  police  straightway  to  the  Messiah's 
lodgings.  The  temple  guard  start  forth  on  the  expedition, 
led  on  by  their  prefect  who  himself  walked  with  Judas. 
But  how  shall  the  police,  when  they  find  the  twelve,  distin- 
guish the  Messiah  from  his  disciples,  one  of  whom  is  said 
(and  so  represented  by  the  painters)  to  have  borne  a  strong 
resemblance  to  Christ?  Judas  proposes  an  ingenious 
scheme.     I  have  been  absent  two  hours  or  more  from  my 


6o  JUDAS 

Master;  it  will,  therefore,  be  an  unsuspicious  act,  nothing 
more  than  common  politeness,  for  me  to  salute  him  with  a 
kiss.  Whomsoever,  therefore,  I  shall  treat  with  the  usual 
mark  of  civility,  seize  him ;  he  has  been  known  to  make 
surprising  escapes ;  therefore  hold  him  fast.  You  are  re- 
sponsible, not  I,  for  leading  him  away  safely. 

In  our  own  day  it  is  not  uncommon  for  American  trav- 
elers to  spend  the  evening  of  the  Jewish  passover  in  the 
garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  to  keep  there  the  anniversary 
of  their  Redeemer's  sorrows.  Four  years  ago,  at  eleven 
o'clock  at  night  there  was  seen  from  this  garden  a  band 
of  men  wending  their  way  to  it,  having  just  left  the  grounds 
of  the  ancient  temple,  some  of  them  bearing  arms,  some 
of  them  bearing  torches.  It  was  a  thrilling  spectacle. 
Eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  from  this  very  garden,  Jesus 
may  have  watched  the  band  of  his  captors  as  they  came 
down  that  hill,  with  swords  and  staves  and  lanterns.  While 
he  was  watching  them  he  may  have  been  preparing  himself 
to  meet  them.  For  various  reasons  it  seems  probable  that 
these  armed  men,  when  they  came  near  the  garden  halted, 
and  the  traitor  walked  forward  alone  to  meet  Jesus.  For 
the  same  reasons  it  seems  probable  that  Jesus  left  his  dis- 
ciples in  the  rear  and  walked  forward  alone  to  meet  the 
man  whom  he  had  called  the  son  of  perdition.  Never  be- 
fore or  since  was  there  a  similar  meeting  of  two  men. 
Historians  describe  the  sublimity  of  the  scene  when  two 
hostile  armies  draw  near  to  their  battle-ground ;  a  cloud  of 
dust  from  the  north,  betokening  the  approach  of  one  army 
— a  cloud  of  dust  from  the  south  indicating  the  tread  of 


JUDAS  6i 

the  opposing  host.  All  the  evil  passions  of  the  traitor  were 
like  a  battalion  of  evil  spirits  surrounding  him.  All  the 
virtues  of  the  Redeemer  were  like  legions  of  angels  hover- 
ing over  him.  In  the  stillness  of  the  night,  these  two  rep- 
resentatives of  principalities  and  powers  stood  before  each 
other  face  to  face.  "Hail,  master !"  was  the  first  word  which 
broke  the  silence  of  the  scene.  "Betrayest  thou  the  Son 
of  man  with  a  kiss?"  was  the  final  word  of  that  noiseless 
encounter.  There  is  no  man  so  lofty  but  that  he  is  some- 
times brought  low  in  affliction.  There  is  no  man  so  low 
but  that  he  is  sometimes  raised  up  in  triumph.  The  vender 
of  his  Lord  has  achieved  his  end.  The  Redeemer  is 
seized  by  the  police ;  his  hands  are  bound  behind  him  and 
he  w'ho  had  just  been  strengthened  by  an  angel  of  God  is 
a  manacled  prisoner.  As  the  towers  of  Mount  Moriah  are 
reflecting  the  moonbeams  in  somber  magnificence,  the 
police  march  back  to  the  Sanhedrin.  Judas  goes  with 
them.  He  is  going  now  for  his  fee.  "So  they  weighed  for 
his  price,"  said  an  old  prophet  five  hundred  years  before, 
and  thus  they  proved  the  truth  of  inspiration,  "So  they 
weighed  for  his  price  thirty  pieces  of  silver."  Judas  took 
them  and  went  his  way.  Where  he  spent  that  night  no- 
body knows.  How  he  spent  it  we  may  presume.  He  had 
harbored  probably  a  vague  impression  that  the  prisoner, 
after  all,  would  circumvent  the  police  or  foil  the  court.  But 
when  he  learned  that  Jesus  had  been  harassed  all  night  long 
with  a  tedious  and  insolent  trial,  exhausted  by  the  mock- 
ing and  insults  of  the  court  and  mob ;  that  he  had  been  led 
handcuffed  to  the  Roman  fortress,  and  after  a  merciless 


62  JUDAS 

scourging,  had  been  condemned  by  the  Roman  judge,  and 
was  now  delivered  over,  tired  and  bleeding,  to  the  iron- 
hearted  executioner,  the  miser  was  convulsed  with  fear. 
He  had  always  noticed  something  majestic  and  mysterious 
in  the  look  and  speech  and  entire  life  of  his  Master,  and 
therefore  he  knew  not  what  sudden  vengeance  might  fall 
upon  his  own  head.  Such  men  as  Judas  are  subject  to  sud- 
den paroxysms.  The  violence  of  his  anger  prepared  the 
way  for  violence  of  grief.  He  was  a  man  of  strong  mind 
and  strong  passions.  He  had  fostered  a  malignant  spirit, 
but  had  not  exterminated  his  conscience.  An  old  divine 
says :  "There  is  no  man  breathing  but  carries  [about  him] 
a  sleeping  lion  in  his  bosom,  which  God  can  and  may,  when 
he  pleases,  rouse  up  and  let  loose  upon  the  man,  so  as  to 
tear  and  worry  him,  to  that  degree  that  he  shall  be  glad  to 
take  sanctuary  in  a  quiet  grave."  We  may  naturally  sup- 
pose the  traitor  to  have  conversed  with  himself  thus  :  "How 
troubled  in  spirit  was  my  Master,  what  an  imploring  glance 
he  flung  upon  me,  when  he  uttered  those  last  words,  the 
last  which  I  ever  did  or  ever  can  hear  from  him  in  this 
world,  'Betrayest  thou  the  Son  of  man  with  a  mark  of 
friendship?'  Had  it  not  been  for  me,  he  would  have  es- 
caped his  brutal  trial.  Had  it  not  been  for  me,  his  life  of 
kindness  would  have  been  crowned  with  honor.  I  am 
worse  than  the  priests,  worse  than  Pilate.  I  remember  the 
day  when  he  said,  and  perhaps  his  foresight  led  him  to  aim 
at  me  his  words,  'What  shall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  shall 
gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul?'  I  remem- 
ber many  such  words ;    and  now  I  have'  lost  my  office,  I 


JUDAS  63 

Ijave  lost  my  means  of  living ;  I  have  lost  my  good  name ; 
I  have  lost  my  soul,  and  what  have  I  gained  by  my  treach- 
ery !  Not  the  whole  world — no,  no,  not  the  whole,  but 
thirty  shekels  of  silver.  What  will  you  give  me?  has  been 
my  first  proposal.  I  might  have  bought  the  truth  and  sold 
it  not.  I  had  every  means  of  laying  up  for  myself  those 
durable  riches  of  which  I  heard  the  Master  say  that  the 
moth  shall  not  corrupt  them ;  but  I  have  spent  my  life  in 
asking.  What  will  ye  give  me?  and  at  length  I  have  bartered 
away  my  birthright  for  oh,  how  small  a  portion  of  filthy 
lucre !  My  money  burns  in  my  purse.  It  will  weigh  me 
down  to  Hades.  What  shall  I  do  to  be  eased  of  my  an- 
guish? I  will  flee  to  the  ministers  of  God ;  I  will  not  exten- 
uate my  guilt,  it  is  too  great ;  I  will  not  censure  my  employ- 
ers. If  you  had  not,  if  you  had  not  tempted  me,  I  had  not 
been  so  ungrateful  to  my  Lord.  I  am  too  guilty  to  accuse 
my  confederates  thus ;  but  I  will  give  my  thirty  silver  pieces 
to  the  ministers  of  the  Lord.  I  will  offer  my  basely  earned 
coin  to  the  treasury  of  the  Church.  Will  not  the  Most 
High  be  propitiated  if  all  the  contents  of  my  purse  be  used 
in  his  service?  for  the  worship  in  his  temple?"  The  remorse- 
ful man  hurries  to  the  priests.  "I  have  sinned.  Here  in 
the  temple  I  bear  my  witness  that  Jesus  has  not  sinned. 
It  is  I  who'  have  sinned."  "What  is  it  to  us  that  you  have 
sinned?  Attend  to  that  business  yourself."  So  did  the 
priests  answer  him.  Last  night  when  they  had  something 
to  gain  by  him  they  treated  him  with  an  eager  kindness, 
they  were  glad ;  but  this  morning  they  have  finished  their 
use  of  him  as  their  instrument,  and  now  they  thrust  him 
aside  as  a  broken  tool. 


64  JUDAS 

The  friendship  of  the  world  is  said  to  be  enmity  to  God. 
It  is  enmity  to  the  friends  themselves.  The  fashionable 
corrupter  will  never  condole  with  his  ruined  victim.  He 
smiles — it  is  but  to  devour.  Thrice  wretched  is  that  youth 
who  has  forsaken  the  tried  friends  of  his  innocence  for  the 
ensnaring  companionship  of  evil  men  in  high  places. 
When  troubled  by  clamors  of  conscience,  his  enticing  com- 
panions will  utter  words  which  will  be  as  daggers  to  his 
soul.  I  used  to  think  that  if  at  last  I  perished  in  my  sin, 
my  pain  would  be  assuaged  by  the  comrades  who  hand  in 
hand  had  trod  with  me  sin's  flowery  way,  for  I  had  read 
that  even  devil  with  devil  damned  firm  concord  holds. 
But  no.  There  shall  be  no  such  sympathy  in  hell;  Dreary 
shall  be  the  alliance  of  them  who  were  allies  on  earth. 
Not  a  reprobate  was  ever  decoyed  by  friends  whom  he 
loved  but  has  already  found  annoyance  in  that  love,  and 
accusers  in  those  friends.  No  wonder  that  Dives  begged 
and  begged  that  his  five  brethren  might  not  join  him  in 
woe.  Their  reproaches  would  make  pain  itself  more  pain- 
ful, and  though  now  he  was  in  the  lowest  depth,  yet  when 
they  came  a  lower  deep  would  open  to  devour  him.  It  is 
eternal  wailing.  See  thou  to  that.  Alas !  he  has  seen ; 
what  is  that  to  us?  he  yet  sees  ;  he  will  ever  see  to  it. 

No  sooner  had  the  priesthood  sneered  at  the  grief  of  Ju- 
das than  he  threw  his  eighteen  dollars  upon  the  sanctuary 
floor  and  rushed  out  of  the  porch.  His  old  friends  abhorring 
him,  his  new  friends  despising  him,  his  money  gone,  his  of- 
fice gone,  he  is  weary  of  life.  To  allay  the  anguish  of  re- 
morse he  resolves  to  plunge  into  the  depths  of  that  remorse 


JUDAS  65 

which  never  knows  an  end.  To  escape  from  the  flame  he 
means  now  to  cast  himself  into  the  fire.  So  wretched  is  this 
ruined  sinner  that  he  seeks  reUef  in  hell. 

He  walks  from  the  temple  in  a  southerly  direction  to 
the  vale  of  Hinnom.  At  the  same  time  the  mob  led  Jesus 
from  the  same  place  in  an  easterly  direction  to  the  mount 
of  Calvary.  Behold  the  two'  men,  both  going  to  death  at 
the  same  hour.  With  the  cross  upon  his  shoulder  and  with 
Judaea's  daughters  weeping  around  him,  Jesus  cries: 
"Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for  me."  With  a  nope 
in  his  hand,  but  without  seeing  one  tear  of  sympathy  for 
him,  Judas  hurries  away,  and  says  not  a  word  to  the  crowd 
whom  he  meets  thronging  on  toward  Golgotha.  What  a 
contrast  also  appears  at  this  time  between  Judas  and  Pe- 
ter! Peter  is  all  alone  weeping  for  his  sins — not  for  one 
sin  but  for  all  his  sins — not  because  they  were  injurious, 
but  because  they  were  vile.  He  not  only  weeps  for  them 
but  forsakes  them — not  only  forsakes  them  but  brings  forth 
fruits  meet  for  repentance ;  and  after  all  his  good  aims,  he 
prays  that  his  life  of  guilt  may  be  pardoned  through  grace. 
But  we  do  not  read  that  Judas  wept.  His  was  not  that  re- 
morse which  melts  itself  into  tears.  His  was  not  that  de- 
spair which  casts  itself  upon  the  mercy  of  God.  He  is  not 
humble,  but  mortified ;  not  penitent,  but  sorry ;  not  mourn- 
ing because  he  is  a  selfish  man,  but  chagrined  because  he 
has  done  a  ruinous  deed.  He  confesses  his  crime,  but  to 
men  only,  not  to  God ;  and  not  the  whole  of  his  crime,  but 
merely  that  item  which  had  been  already  exposed.  He 
says  not,  "I  confess  my  avarice,  my  revenge,  my  hidden 


66  JUDAS 

dishonesty,"  but,  "I  confess  my  treason."  Nor  had  he  con- 
fessed his  treason  if  Jesus  had  triumphed  over  it.  But, 
says  Matthew,  when  the  poor  calculator  saw  the  conse- 
quences of  his  kiss  he  trembled.  Without  one  prayer  to 
God  he  confesses,  "I  have  sinned,"  and  went  straightway 
to  sin  more  boldly  than  ever.  His  cheek  was  pale  with 
fear,  and  yet  he  feared  not  to  face  the  Eternal — but  un- 
called' for.  As  if  to  show  that  he  could  not  be  bold  enough 
on  earth,  he  rushed  to  the  bar  of  his  God.  No,  that  poor 
man  had  all  the  anguish  of  a  convicted  soul  without  one 
solace  of  a  penitent.  He  held  himself  up  to  the  world 
as  a  spectacle  of  remorse  and  crime  even  in  death.  His 
pain,  like  that  of  every  incorrigible  man,  was  equal  to  his 
selfishness.  His  selfishness,  like  that  of  every  persever- 
ing sinner,  was  the  source  of  that  strange  pain ;  for  the 
pain  of  conscience  is  a  strange  pain,  hankering  to  augment 
itself. 

Having  walked,  as  we  may  suppose,  more  than  a  hundred 
rods  from  Mt.  Moriah,  and  passed  the  city  wall  through 
one  of  its  southern  gates,  Judas  arrived  at  a  patch  of 
rough  ground  from  which  the  potter  who  owned  it  pro- 
cured the  clay  for  his  bricks.  "One  of  the  most  rude  and 
rugged  spots  here,  and  one  which  is  close  to  the  valley  of 
Tophet  is  still  pointed  out  as  the  Potter's  Field.  Here 
Judas  is  said  to  have  been  buried.  Here  are  trees  stand- 
ing near  the  brink  of  huge  clififs  and  precipices."  We  may 
suppose  that  it  was  a  tree  growing  near  the  verge  of  one 
such  cliff  that  Judas  selected  for  his  use.  He  may  have  tied 
his  rope  to  a  bough  which  leaned  over  the  precipice  and 


JUDAS  67 

which  if  it  should  break  would  let  him  fall  upon  the  sharp 
rocks  at  the  bottom.  Having  tied  the  other  end  of  the  rope 
around  his  neck,  he  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  swing  over 
the  edge  of  the  abyss,  and  his  entire  weight  will  hang  upon 
the  bough.  He  swings.  But  perhaps  the  bough  was  too 
fragile ;  perhaps  the  rope  was  too  weak ;  perhaps  he  was  too 
deeply  agitated  with  remorse  to  adjust  anything  aright: 
at  any  rate,  by  some  mismanagement  he  lost  his  hold  upon 
the  tree.  He  fell  down  the  precipice;  he  struck  upon  the 
sharp  rocks.  Luke,  who  was  a  physician,  and  was  care- 
ful in  noting  the  phenomena  within  the  scope  of  his  pro- 
fession, describes  the  fall  as  resulting  in  the  most  violent 
contusions  of  the  body,  and  in  an  evisceration  from  which 
we  turn  away  our  eyes  instinctively  for  relief. 

And  whither  shall  we  turn  our  eyes  instinctively  for  re- 
lief? From  the  mangled  body  to  the  soul?  Have  you  not 
heard  how  some  believe  that  Judas  at  the  instant  of  his 
body's  fracture  rose  as  a  happy  spirit  toi  Paradise,  and  left 
his  comrades,  because  they  were  faithful,  to  struggle  on  for 
years  in  persecution  and  pain?  Have  you  not  heard  how 
some  believe  that  he  spent  three  hours  amid  the  pure  ser- 
aphs above  while  his  Redeemer  was  sighing  out  these  three 
hours  on  the  cross,  amid  the  enemies  who  were  mocking 
him?  Have  you  not  heard  how  some  believe  all  this?  But 
have  you  not  read  that  when  Judas  fell,  he  did  not  rise,  but 
fell  from  his  apostleship  to  "his  own  place"? 

It  has  been  asked  what  are  the  most  momentous  hours 
that  have  elapsed  since  the  creation.  I  do  not  know  what 
they  were,  unless  we  select  the  five  hours  from  eleven  till 


68  JUDAS 

four  on  that  memorable  Friday.  On  earth  what  a  moment 
was  this  of  the  traitor's  death !  In  a  very  short  time  the 
entire  heaven  was  clouded  over,  and  remained  so,  from 
the  sixth  hour  to  the  ninth — for  then  the  Son  of  God  was 
nailed  to  the  tree  and  that  was  the  most  thrilling  thing  ever 
done  by  man.  In  heaven,  also,  what  a  moment!  It  was 
known  there,  doubtless,  that  the  portals  of  death  would  be 
opened  for  Jesus  to  pass  through  on  his  mysterious  visit 
after  his  expiring  breath  on  the  cross — that  brief  as  well 
as  wonderful  visit  lasting  only  from  Friday  noon  until  Sab- 
bath morning,  very  early  in  the  morning.  And  were  not 
the  sainted  spirits  gazing  silently  at  that  door  and  wait- 
ing for  the  coming  in  of  their  favorite?  But  lo!  an  intruder, 
unbidden,  opens  the  gates  of  death  at  that  hour  when  the 
principalities  of  heaven  stood  waiting.  He  is  hastening 
away  from  his  only  probation,  even  while  the  making  of 
the  atonement  is  in  actual  progress  on  Calvary.  Four- 
teen hours  ago  he  met  the  Son  of  God  in  the  garden  and 
kissed  him.  Now  he  meets  God  himself.  "Hail  Master," 
does  he  say?  To  see  God  in  this  world  is  one  thing;  to 
see  him  in  eternity,  that  is  the  event  at  which  every  mouth 
shall  be  stopped. 

And  in  hell  what  a  moment  was  this  of  Judas'  death ! 
Now  is  your  hour,  said  Jesus,  your  hour  of  triumph.  They 
were  all  absorbed  then  in  the  crucifixion,  and  did  they  not 
watch  the  iron  gate,  anxious  and  eager  for  the  first  glimpse 
of  Him  who  was  soon  to  be  relieved  from  the  nails  and  the 
crown  of  thorns?  But  the  betrayer  gets  the  start  of  the 
betrayed,  and  shows  himself  abruptly  to  that  dark  cloud 


JUDAS  69 

of  witnesses.  He  comes  down  loaded  with  remorse. 
"What  is  your  remorse  to  us?  see  thou  to  that."  He  finds 
he  has  made  a  sad  exchange  from  earth  to  hell.  In  a  mo- 
ment, in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  he  pants  to  avert  his  sec- 
ond death  by  a  second  suicide.  One  hour  ago  he  longed 
to  undo  his  treachery,  now  he  longs  to  undo  his  self-mur- 
der. In  a  few  moments  Jesus  exclaims  from  the  cross:  "I 
thirst ;"  and  then  Judas  cries :  "Give  me  also  one  drop  of 
water ;  for  I  am  tormented  in  this  flame  of  remorse."  In 
a  few  moments,  Jesus  prays,  "Father,  forgive  them ;"  and 
then  Judas  cries,  "Yea,  forgive  them,  lest  they  who  hired 
me  come  hither  to  augment  my  pains."  John,  his  fellow 
disciple,  and  Mary  who  wasted  the  ointment,  are,  at  this 
very  minute,  around  the  cross.  Oh,  could  Judas  go  back 
again,  and  stand  with  that  amiable  disciple,  and  with  that 
woman  who  wasted  the  ointment,  he  would  give,  yea,  that 
miser  would  give  oceans  of  his  once  loved  shekels !  But 
no,  he  was  to  be  forever  craving,  as  on  earth  craving  for  sil- 
ver, so  now  craving  for  one  moment  of  rest.  In  vain  he  longs 
that  the  rock  on  which  he  fell  and  was  bruised  might  now 
fall  on  him  and  hide  him  from  the  glance  of  that  mild  Prince 
who  was  just  moving  through  the  air  from  his  cross 
to  his  throne.  Oh,  how  changed  that  man  of  sorrows,  now 
riding  home  to  glory  with  loud  acclaim !  Which  way  soever 
that  poor  disciple  turns  his  eyes,  he  reads  the  same  words : 
"Eternity,  eternity!  What  will  ye  give  me?  Eternity,  eter- 
nity !  Thirty  pieces  of  silver !  Eternity,  eternity !  What 
shall  it  profit  a  man  though  he  gain  his  silver,  and  lose  his 
eternity!      Oh,    eternity!"     And    when    ages    heaped    on 


70  JUDAS 

ages  shall  have  rolled  away,  the  forlorn  disciple,  like  the 
Babylonian  monarch  whose  knees  smote  together,  shall 
see  a  mysterious  hand  writing  on  the  walls  those  expres- 
sive words,  "The  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil."  And 
you  and  I,  my  friend,  remaining  sorrowless  for  any  sin, 
shall  one  day  leave  our  mirth  and  our  employments,  and 
make  our  bed  with  Judas  Iscariot.  Here  we  select  our 
own  companions,  but  hereafter  one  by  one  shall  we  be 
gathered  to  his  side,  and  wrap  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
about  us,  and  lie  down  to  his  hard  embrace.  No  wonder, 
no  wonder  that  Jesus  was  troubled  in  spirit  and  groaned 
forth  the  words  of  our  text :  "It  had  been  good  for  that 
man  if  he  had  not  been  born" ! 

Good  were  it  for  him,  doubtless ;  but  from  the  fact  that 
he  was  born,  some  good  has  come  to  the  universe.  He 
meant  not  so,  neither  did  his  heart  think  so,  but  he,  as  every 
man,  must  either  use  his  talents  for  good  or  else  be  used 
for  good  by  Him  who  overruleth  even  the  selfishness  of 
men  for  the  common  welfare.  Judas  was  a  drudge,  and  he 
carried  the  bag,  and  did  the  drudgery  of  his  nobler  fellows. 
His  character  serves  as  the  background  of  the  picture  on 
which  the  mellow  hues  of  redeeming  love  are  painted ;  and 
that  love  shines  forth  the  richer  in  the  foreground  because 
it  is  in  contrast;  with  a  cloud  so  dark  and  dismal  behind  it. 
The  traitor  did  succeed  in  giving  up  his  Master  to  the  foe ; 
but  the  very  death  of  Jesus  has  been  turned  into  a  means 
of  life  to  all  who  will  accept  it.  The  guilty  man  fell  from 
his  apostleship ;  but  marvel  not,  my  brethren,  when  I  say 
imto  you,  that  he  is  an  apostle  even  yet.    He  was  once  or- 


JUDAS  71 

dained  as  a  preacher,  and  his  ordination  is  not  cancelled. 
Listen  now  to  the  words  which  are  spoken  and  emphasized 
by  his  life  and  death  and  punishment.    The  worst  man  that 
lives  is  the  man  who  sins  under  the  garb  of  piety.    His  pre- 
tence to  be  a  good  man  is  the  kiss,  and  sin  is  the  treason, 
and  every  pretended  Christian  when  he  sins  is  the  traitor. 
The  prototype  of  hypocrites  gave  up  Christ's  body  to  be 
bruised ;  the  hypocrite  of  our  day  gives  over  Christ's  feel- 
ings to  be  wounded.     Without  Iscariot's  sin,  the  enemies 
of  Jesus  had  been  held  at  bay ;  without  the  sin  of  the  Church 
these    enemies  would   find  few   excuses   for   impenitence. 
Jesus  could  overlook  the  barbarity  of  Caiaphas  and  Pilate, 
and  the   quaternion  who  nailed  his  limbs ;  but  when  he 
thinks  of  Judas,  he  exclaims :  "It  was  not  an  enemy  that 
reproached  me ;  then  I  could  have  borne  it :  .  ,  .  .  but  it  was 
thou,  a  man  mine  equal,  my  guide,  and  mine  acquaintance." 
And  to-day  he  can  endure  the  ingratitude  of  the  men  who 
never  sat  at  his  table ;   he  says  in  grief,  Mine  own  familiar 
friend,  in  whom  I  trusted,  which  did  eat  of  my  bread,  hath 
risen  up  against  me  in  rebellion. 

Is  there  or  is  there  not  some  Judas  Iscariot  in  this 
church?  There  are  to  be  found  many  Judases  at  the  last — 
is  there  one  of  them  here?  Are  you  unsuspected  in  your 
Christian  walk?  So  was  Iscariot  honored  and  trusted  until 
that  evening  when  the  generous  woman  wasted  the  oint- 
ment. Is  the  question  going  around  the  seats,  Who  then  is 
the  faithless  disciple  ?  Let  us  determine  who  it  is.  He  who 
like  Judas  at  the  paschal  supper  is  the  slowest  to  suspect 
himself,  and  the  last  to  inquire  "Is  it  I?" — that  man  is  to  be 


72  JUDAS 

feared.  He  who  restraineth  prayer  before  God,  and  causeth 
the  impenitent  to  say  that  religion  is  a  dream — ^there  is 
reason  to  suspect  that  man.  He  who  cherishes  one  habit- 
ual sin,  be  it  sloth,  or  anger,  or  levity  or  acrimony,  or  av- 
arice, or  ambition,  or  envy,  or  pride,  even  spiritual  pride, 
to  that  man  perhaps  the  Saviour  says :  Thou  art  Judas. 
Wilt  thou  persevere  in  thy  sin  unto  the  bitter  end? 
"Good  for  that  man  if  he  had  not  been  born." 


PROFESSOR  PARK  AT  40 


THE  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  AND 
THAT  OF  THE  FEELINGS 

A  Discourse  delivered  before  the  Convention  of  the  Congregational 
Ministers  of  Massachusetts,  in  Brattle  Street  Meeting-house,  Boston 
May  30,  1850. 


The  Boston  Courier  said  of  this  discourse :  "Professor  Park  has 
the  honor  of  doing  what  has  not  been  done  for  a  long  time  before, 
on  a  similar  occasion,  namely,  the  filling  to  overflowing,  yesterday 
forenoon,  the  Brattle  Street  Church. 

"Every  aisle,  above  and  below,  was  crowded  with  gentlemen  and 
ladies  who  stood  during  the  whole  services,  though  the  time  was 
nearly  two  hours.  His  topic  was  the  theology  of  the  intellect  and 
the  affections  in  their  mental  action  upon  one  another.  Rarely  has 
a  discourse,  so  brilliant  in  thought  and  illustration,  so  comprehen- 
sive and  clear,  been  delivered  in  this  city.  But  one  opinion  has  been 
expressed  in  this  matter,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  it  will  soon  be 
published  and  widely  circulated.  The  elocution  of  the  speaker  ma- 
terially assisted  the  performance,  and  the  effect  in  some  passages 
where  his  fertility  of  illustration  and  aptness  of  remark  made  clear 
and  prominent  some  important  truth  frequently  seen  under  a  cloud, 
was  almost  overpowering.  Metaphysical  discernment  and  a  luxu- 
riant imagination  united  to  make  the  sermon  exceedingly  inter- 
esting to  cultivated  minds,  and  the  practical  bearing  of  the  whole 
discourse  on  doctrinal  belief  and  religious  literature,  made  it  a 
timely  and  useful  disquisitfbn." 

Dr.  J.  W.  Wellman  who  heard  this  sermon  writes : — 
"The  old  Brattle  Street  Church  was  crowded  to  suffocation.  Dr. 
Samuel  K.  Lothrop,  the  pastor  of  the  church,  was  in  the  pulpit, 
sitting  at  the  left  of  Dr.  Park.  During  the  introductory  services 
all  the  intimate  friends  of  the  Professor  in  the  audience  must  have 
seen  that  he  was  under  the  influence  of  intense  thought  and  feeling. 
At  length  he  rose  to  speak,  and  there  was  such  an  electric  tone  in 
his  voice,  such  intense  passion  in  his  marvelous  eye,  and,  indeed, 
in  every  movement  and  gesture,  and  in  his  whole  powerful  person- 
ality, that  the  attention  of  every  person  in  the  vast  audience  was 
arrested  by  the.  first  word  of  the  oration,  and  chained  to  him  to 
his  last  word ;  and  then  instantly,  in  their  relief  from  long  over- 
wrought feeling,  every  listener,  with  flushed  face,  drew  a  long 
breath  which  was  audible  in  every  part  of  the  church." 

"Dear  Sir: — 

"I  am  indebted  to  the  Rev.  S B for  sending  me  a  copy  of 

your  sermon,  before  the  Convention  of  Congi'egational  Ministers ; 
and  cannot  resist  writing  this  note,  to  say  how  highly  I  esteem  it. 
I  have  read  it  with  interest,  and  much  instruction.  You  have  been, 
I  think,  particularly  happy,  in  shewing  how  Biblical  expressions, 
apparently  contradictory,  are  yet  consistent;  and  how  sensibility  and 
religious  emotion  may  be  excited  without  violence  to  philosophi- 
cal truth.  This  is  rendering  a  real  service,  not  only  to  all  Biblical 
students,   but  to  all   Christians. 

"With   great   regard 

"Your  ob.  servt. 

"Daniel   Webster." 
Washington,  June  20,  1850. 


THE    THEOLOGY    OF    THE    INTELLECT    AND 
THAT    OF    THE    FEELINGS' 

"The  Strength  of  Israel  will  not  lie  nor  repent:  for  he  is  not  a  man, 
that  he  should  repent." — i  Sam.  15 :    29. 

"And  it  repented  the  Lord  that  he  had  made  man  on  the  earth, 
and  it  grieved  him  at  his  heart." — Gen.  6 :    6. 

I  have  heard  of  a  father  who  endeavored  to  teach  his 
children  a  system  of  astronomy  in  precise  philosophical  lan- 
guage, and  although  he  uttered  nothing  but  the  truth,  they 
learned  from  him  nothing  but  falsehood.  I  have  also  heard 
of  a  mother  who,  with  a  woman's  tact,  so  exhibited  the  gen- 
eral features  of  astronomical  science  that  although  her  state- 
ments were  technically  erroneous,  they  still  made  upon  her 
children  a  better  impression,  and  one  more  nearly  right 
than  would  have  been  made  by  a  more  accurate  style.  For 
the  same  reason  many  a  punctilious  divine,  preaching  the 
exact  truth  in  its  scientific  method,  has  actually  imparted 
to  the  understanding  of  his  hearers  either  no  idea  at  all  or 
a  wrong  one ;  while  many  a  pulpit  orator,  using  words  which 
tire  the  patience  of  the  scholastic  theologian,  and  which  in 

'  When  the  author  began  to  prepare  the  ensuing  discourse,  he  in- 
tended to  avoid  all  trains  of  remark  adverse  to  the  doctrinal  views 
of  any  party  or  school  belonging  to  the  Convention.  But,  contrary  to 
his  anticipations,  he  was  led  into  a  course  of  thought  which  he  was 
aware  that  some  clergymen  of  Massachusetts  would  not  adopt  as 
their  own,  and  for  the  utterance  of  which  he  was  obliged  to  rely  on 
their  liberal  and  generous  feeling.    Although  it  is  in  bad  taste  for  a 


76  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

their  literal  import  are  false,  has  yet  lodged  in  the  hearts  of 
his  people  the  main  substance  of  truth.  John  Foster  says, 
that  whenever  a  man  prays  aright  he  forgets  the  philosophy 
of  prayer;  and  in  more  guarded  phrase  we  may  say  that 
when  men  are  deeply  affected  by  any  theme,  they  are  apt  to 
disturb  some  of  its  logical  proportions,  and  when  preachers 
aim  to  rouse  the  sympathies  of  a  populace,  they  often  give  a 
brighter  coloring  or  a  bolder  prominence  to  some  linea- 
ments of  a  doctrine  than  can  be  given  to  them  in  a  well  com- 
pacted science. 

There  are  two  forms  of  theology,  of  which  the  two  pas- 
sages in  my  text  are  selected  as  individual  specimens,  the 
one  declaring  that  God  never  repents,  the  other  that  he 
does  repent.  For  the  want  of  a  better  name  these  two  forms 
inay  be  termed,  the  theology  of  the  intellect,  and  the  the- 
ology of  feeling.  Sometimes,  indeed,  both  the  mind  and 
the  heart  are  suited  by  the  same  modes  of  thought,  but  of- 
ten they  require  dissimilar  methods,  and  the  object  of  the 
present  discourse  is,  to  state  some  of  the  differences  be- 
tween the  theology  of  the  intellect  and  that  of  feeHng,  and 
also  some  of  the  influences  which  they  exert  upon  each 
other. 

What,  then,  are  some  of  the  differences  between  these 
two  kinds  of  representation? 

The  theology  of  the  intellect  conforms  to  the  laws,  sub- 
preacher,  on  such  an  occasion,  to  take  any  undue  advantage  of  the 
kindness  of  his  hearers,  yet  perhaps  it  is  not  dishonorable  for  him, 
confiding  in  their  proverbial  charity,  to  venture  on  the  free  expres- 
sion of  thoughts  which  he  cannot  repress  without  an  injurious  con- 
straint upon  himself. 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  y-j 

serves  the  wants  and  secures  the  approval  of  our  intuitive 
and  deductive  powers.  It  includes  the  decisions  of  the  judg- 
ment, of  the  perceptive  part  of  conscience  and  taste,  indeed, 
of  all  the  faculties  which  are  essential  to  the  reasoning  proc- 
ess. It  is  the  theology  of  speculation,  and  therefore  com- 
prehends the  truth  just  as  it  is,  unmodified  by  excitements 
of  feeling.  It  is  received  as  accurate  not  in  its  spirit  only, 
but  in  its  letter  also.  Of  course  it  demands  evidence,  either 
internal  or  extraneous,  for  all  its  propositions.  These  prop- 
ositions, whether  or  not  they  be  inferences  from  antecedent, 
are  well  fitted  to  be  premises  for  subsequent  trains  of  proof. 
This  intellectual  theology,  therefore,  prefers  general  to  in- 
dividual statements,  the  abstract  to  the  concrete,  the  literal 
to  the  figurative.  In  the  creed  of  a  Trinitarian  it  affirms 
that  He  who  united  in  his  person  a  human  body,  a  human 
I  soul  and  a  divine  spirit,  expired  on  the  cross,  but  it  does  not 
\  originate  the  phrase  that  his  soul  expired,  nor  that  "God 
'  the  mighty  Maker  died."  Its  aim  is  not  to  be  impressive, 
but  intelligible  and  defensible.  Hence  it  insists  on  the  nice 
proportions  of  doctrine,  and  on  preciseness  both  of  thought 
and  style.  Its  words  are  so  exactly  defined,  its  adjustments 
are  so  accurate,  that  no  caviller  can  detect  an  ambiguous, 
mystical  or  incoherent  sentence.  It  is,  therefore,  in  entire 
harmony  w4th  itself,  abhorring  a  contradiction  as  nature 
abhors  a  vacuum.  Left  to  its  own  guidance,  for  example, 
it  would  never  suggest  the  unqualified  remark  that  Christ 
has  fully  paid  the  debt  of  sinners,  for  it  declares  that  this 
debt  may  justly  be  claimed  from  them ;  nor  that  he  has  suf- 
fered the    whole    punishment  which  they  deserve,    for  it 


78  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

teaches  that  this  punishment  may  still  be  righteously  in- 
flicted on  themselves ;  nor  that  he  has  entirely  satisfied  the 
law,  for  it  insists  that  the  demands  of  the  law  are  yet  in 
force.  If  it  should  allow  those  as  logical  premises,  it  would 
also  allow  the  salvation  of  all  men  as  a  logical  inference,  but 
it  rejects  this  inference  and  accordingly,  being  self-consist- 
ent, must  reject  those  when  viewed  as  literal  premises.'  It 
is  adapted  to  the  soul  in  her  inquisitive  moods, 
but  fails  to  satisfy  her  craving  for  excitement.  In  order 
to  express  the  definite  idea  that  we  are  exposed  to  evil 
in  consequence  of  Adam's  sin,  it  does  not  employ  the 
passionate  phrase,  "we  are  guilty  of  his  sin."  It  searches 
for  the  proprieties  of  representation,  for  seemliness  and 
decorum.  It  gives  origin  to  no  statements  which  re- 
quire an  apology  or  essential  modification ;  no  meta- 
phor, for  example,  so  bold  and  so  liable  to  disfigure  our 
idea  of  the  divine  equity,  as  that  heaven  imputes  the  crime 
of  one  man  to  millions  of  his  descendants,  and  then  imputes 
their  myriad  sins  to  Him  who  was  harmless  and  undefiled. 
As  it  'avoids  the  dashes  of  an  imaginative  style,  as  it  qualifies 
and  subdues  the  remark  which  the  passions  would  make  still 
more  intense,  it  seems  dry,  tame  to  the  mass  of  men.  It 
awakens  but  little  interest  in  favor  of  its  old  arrangements ; 
its  new  distinctions  are  easily  introduced,  to  be  as  speedily 
forgotten.  As  we  might  infer,  it  is  suited  not  for  eloquent 
j  appeals,  but  for  calm  controversial  treatises  and  bodies  of 
;  divinity ;  not  so  well  for  the  hymn-book  as  for  the  cate- 
i  chism ;  not  so  well  for  the  liturgy  as  for  the  creed. 

^  Note  I,  in  Appendix. 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  79 

In  some  respects,  but  not  in  all,  the  theology  of  feeling 
differs  from  that  of  intellect.  It  is  the  form  of  belief  which 
is  suggested  by,  and  adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  well- 
trained  heart.  It  is  embraced  as  involving  the  substance  of 
truth,  although,  when  literally  interpreted,  it  may  or  may 
not  be  false.  It  studies  not  the  exact  proportions  of  doc- 
trine, but  gives  especial  prominence  to  those  features  of  it 
which  are  and  ought  to  be  most  grateful  to  the  sensibilities. 
It  insists  not  on  dialectical  argument,  but  receives  whatever 
the  healthy  affections  crave.  It  chooses  particular  rather 
than  general  statements ;  teaching,  for  example,  the  divine 
omnipotence  by  an  individual  instance  of  it ;  saying,  not 
that  God  can  do  all  things  which  are'  objects  of  power,  but 
that  he  spake  and  it  was  done.  It  sacrifices  abstract  re- 
marks to  visible  and  tangible  images ;  choosing  the  lovely 
phrase  that  "the  children  of  men  put  their  trust  under  the 
shadow  of  Jehovah's  wings,"  rather  than  the  logical  one  that 
his  providence  comprehendeth  all  events.  It  is  satisfied 
with  vague,  indefinite  representations.  It  is  too  buoyant, 
too  earnest  for  a  moral  result,  to  compress  itself  into  sharp- 
ly-drawn angles.  It  is  often  the  more  forceful  because  of 
the  looseness  of  its  style,  herein  being  the  hiding  of  its 
power.  It  is  sublime  in  its  obscure  picture  of  the  Sovereign 
who  maketh  darkness  his  pavilion,  dark  waters  and  thick 
clouds  of  the  sky.  Instead  of  measuring  the  exact  dimen- 
sions of  a  spirit,  it  says,  "I  could  not  discern  the  form  there- 
of:  an  image  was  before  mine  eyes,  there  was  silence,  and  I 
heard  a  voice ;"  and  in  the  haziness  of  this  vision  lies  its  fit- 
ness to  stir  up  the  soul.    Of  course,  the  theology  of  feeling 


8o  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

aims  to  be  impressive,  whether  it  be  or  be  not  minutely  ac- 
curate. Often  it  bursts  away  from  dogmatic  restraints,  forces 
its  passage  through  or  over  rules  of  logic,  and  presses  for- 
ward to  expend  itself  first  and  foremost  in  afTecting  the  sen- 
sibilities. For  this  end,  instead  of  being  comprehensive,  it 
is  elastic ;  avoiding  monotony,  it  is  ever  pertinent  to  the  oc- 
casion ;  it  brings  out  into  bold  relief  now  one  feature  of  a 
doctrine  and  then  a  different  feature,  and  assumes  as  great 
a  variety  of  shapes  as  the  wants  -of  the  heart  are  various. 
In  order  to  hold  the  Jews  back  from  the  foul,  cruel  vices  of 
their  neighbors,  the  Tyrian,  Moabite,  Ammonite,  Egyptian, 
Philistine,  Babylonian ;  in  order  to  stop  their  indulgence  in 
the  degrading  worship  of  Moloch,  Dagon,  Baal,  Tammuz, 
they  were  plied  with  a  stern  theology,  well  fitted  by  its  ter- 
rible denunciations  to  save  them  from  the  crime  which  was 
still  more  terrible.  They  were  told  of  the  jealousy  and  an- 
ger of  the  Lord,  of  his  breastplate,  helmet,  bow,  arrows, 
spear,  sword,  glittering  sword,  and  raiment  stained  with 
blood.  This  fearful  anthropomorphism  enstamped  a  truth 
upon  their  hearts ;  but  when  they  needed  a  soothing  influ- 
ence, they  were  assured!  that  the  Lord  "shall  feed  his  flock 
like  a  shepherd :  he  shall  gather  the  lambs  with  his  arm,  and 
carry  them  in  his  bosom,  and  shall  gently  lead  those  that 
are  with  young."  Thus  does  the  theology  of  feeling  indi- 
vidualize the  single  parts  of  a  doctrine ;  and,  so  it  can  make 
them  intense  and  impressive,  it  cares  not  to  make  them  har- 
monious with  each  other.  When  it  has  one  end  in  view,  it 
represents  Christians  as  united  with  their  Lord ;  now,  they 
being  branches  and  he  the  vine-stock;  again,  they  being 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  8i 

members  and  he  the  body ;  still  again,  they  being  the  body 
and  he  the  head ;  and  once  more,  they  being  the  spouse  and 
he  the  bridegroom.    But  it  does  not  mean  to  have  these  en- 
dearing words  metamorphosed  into  an  intellectual  theory 
of  our  oneness  or  identification  with  Christ;  for  with  an- 
other end  in  view  it  contradicts  this  theory,  and  teaches  that 
he  is  distinct  from  us,  even  as  separate  as  the  sun  or  morn- 
ing star  from  those  who  are  gladdened  by  its  beams ;  the 
door  or  way  from  those  who  pass  through  or  over  it,  the 
captain  from  his  soldiers,  the  forerunner  from  the  follower, 
the  judge  from  those  arrayed  before  him,  the  king  from 
those  who  bow  the  knee  to  him.     In  order  to  make  us  feel 
the  strength  of  God's  aversion  to  sin,  it  declares  that  he  has 
repented  of  having  made  our  race,  has  been  grieved  at  his 
heart  for  transgressors,  weary  of  them,  vexed  with  them. 
But  it  does  not  mean  that  these  expressions  which,  as  in- 
flected by  times  and  circumstances,  impress  a  truth  upon 
the  soul,  be  stereotyped  into  the  principle  that  Jehovah  has 
ever  parted  with  his  infinite  blessedness ;  for  in  order  to 
make  us  confide  in  his  stability,  it  denies  that  he  ever  re- 
pents, and  declares  that  he  is  without  even  the  shadow  of 
turning.    It  assumes  these  discordant  forms,  so  as  to  meet 
the  afifections  in  their  conflicting  moods.     Its  aim  is  not  to 
facilitate  the  inferences  of  logic,  but  to  arrest  attention,  to 
grapple  with  the  wayward  desires,  to  satisfy  the  longings 
of  the  pious  heart.     And  in  order  to  reach  all  the  hiding- 
places  of  emotion,  it  now  and  then  strains  a  word  to  its  ut- 
most significancy,  even    into  a  variance  with  some  other 
phrase  and  a  disproportion  with  the  remaining  parts  of  the 


I 


82  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

system.  We  often  hear  that  every  great  divine,  hke  Jona- 
than Edwards,  will  contradict  himself.  If  this  be  so,  it  is 
because  he  is  a  reasoner  and  something  more ;  because  he 
is  not  a  mere  mathematician,  but  gives  his  feelings  a  full, 
an  easy  and  a  various  play ;  because  he  does  not  exhibit  his 
faith  always  in  the  same  form,  straight  like  a  needle,  sharp- 
pointed  and  one-eyed. 

The  free  theology  of  the  feelings  is  ill-fitted  for  didactic 
or  controversial  treatises  or  doctrinal  standards.  Martin 
Luther  and  the  church  Fathers,  who  used  it  so  often,  be- 
came thereby  unsafe  polemics.  Anything,  everything,  can 
be  proved  from  them  ;  for  they  were  ever  inditing  sentences 
congenial  with  an  excited  heart,  but  false  as  expressions  of 
deliberate  opinion.  But  this  emotive  theology  is  adapted 
to  the  persuasive  sermon,  to  the  pleadings  of  the  liturgy,  to 
the  songs  of  Zion.  By  no  means  can  it  be  termed  mere 
poetry,  in  the  sense  of  a  playful  fiction.  It  is  no  play,  but 
solemn  earnestness.  It  is  no  mere  fiction,  but  an  outpour- 
ing of  sentiments  too  deep,  or  too  mellow,  or  too  impetuous 
to  be  suited  with  the  stifif  language  of  the  intellect.  Neither 
can  its  words  be  called  merely  figurative,  in  the  sense  of  ar- 
bitrary or  unsubstantial.  They  are  the  earliest,  and  if  one 
may  use  a  comparison,  the  most  natural  utterances  of  a  soul 
instinct  with  religious  life.  They  are  forms  of  language 
which  circumscribe  a  substance  of  doctrine,  a  substance 
which,  fashioned  as  it  may  be,  the  intellect  grasps  and  holds 
fast ;  a  substance  which  arrests  the  more  attention  and  pro- 
longs the  deeper  interest  by  the  figures  which  bound  it. 
This  form  of  theology,  then,  is  far  from  being  fitly  repre- 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  83 

sented  by  the  term  imaginative,  still  farther  by  the  term     \ 
fanciful,  and  farther  yet  by  the  word  capricious.      It  goes 
deeper ;  it  is  the  theology  both  of  and  for  our  sensitive  na- 
ture ;  of  and  for  the  normal  emotion,  affection,  passion.    It 
may  be  called  poetry,  however,  if  this  word  be  used,  as  it 
should  be,  to  include  the  constitutional  developments  of  a 
heart  moved  to  its  depths  by  the  truth.    And  as  in  its  es- 
sence it  is  poetical,  with  this  meaning  of  the  epithet,  so  it 
avails  itself  of  a  poetic  license,  and  indulges  in  a  style  of 
remark  which  for  sober  prose  would  be    unbecoming,  or 
even,  when  associated  in  certain  ways,  irreverent.    All  warm 
affection,  be  it  love  or  hatred,  overleaps  at  times  the  pro- 
prieties of  a  didactic  style.  Does  not  the  Bible  make  this  ob- 
vious?   There  are  words  in  the  Canticles  and  in  the  impre- 
catory Psalms,  which  are  to  be  justified  as  the  utterances  of 
a  feeling  too  pure,  too  unsuspicious,  too  earnest  to  guard 
itself  against  evil  surmises.    There  are  appearances  of  rea- 
soning in  the  Bible,  which  the    mere  dialectician    has  de- 
nounced as  puerile  sophisms.    But  some  of  them  may  never 
have  been  intended  for  logical  proof;  they  may  have  been 
designed  for  passionate  appeals  and  figured  into  the  shape 
of  argument,  not  to  convince  the  reason  but  to  carry  the 
heart  by  a  strong  assault,  in  a  day  when  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  suffered  violence  and  the  violent  took  it  by  force. 
In  one  of  his  lofty  flights  of  inspiration,  the  Psalmist  cries, 
"Awake,  why  sleepest  thou,  O  Lord?"  and  Martin  Luther, 
roused  more  than  man  is  wont  to  be  by  this  example,  prayed 
at  the  Diet  of  Worms,  in  language  which  we  fear  to  repeat, 
"Hearest  thou  not,  my  God  ;  art  thou  dead?"    And  a  favor- 


84  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

ite  English  minstrel  sings  of  the  "dying  God,"  of  the  "sharp 
distress,"  the  "sore  complaints"  of  God,  his  "last  groans," 
his  "dying  blood ;"  of  his  throne,  also,  as  once  a  "burning 
throne,"  a  "seat  of  dreadful  wrath" ;  but  now  "sprinkled 
over"  by  "the  rich  drops"  of  blood  "that  calmed  his  frown- 
ing face."  It  is  the  very  nature  of  a  theology  framed  for  en- 
kindling the  imagination  and  thereby  inflaming  the  heart, 
to  pour  itself  out,  when  a  striking  emergency  calls  for  them, 
in  words  that  burn ;  words  that  excite  no  congenial  glow  in 
technical  students,  viewing  all  truth  in  its  dry  light,  and  dis- 
daining all  figures  which  would  offend  the  decorum  of  a 
philosophical  or  didactic  style,  but  words  which  wake  the 
deepest  sympathies  of  quick-moving,  wide-hearted,  many- 
sided  men,  who  look  through  a  superficial  impropriety  and 
discern  under  it  a  truth  which  the  nice  language  of  prose  is 
too  frail  to  convey  into  the  heart,  and  breaks  down  in  the  at- 
tempt. 

Hence  it  is  another  criterion  of  this  emotive  theology  that, 
when  once  received,  it  is  not  easily  discarded.  The  essence 
of  it  remains  the  same,  while  its  forms  are  changed ;  and 
these  forms,  although  varied  to  meet  the  varying  exigencies 
of  feeling,  are  not  abandoned  so  as  never  to  be  restored ; 
for  the  same  exigencies  appeair  and  reappear  from  time  to 
time,  and  therefore  the  same  diversified  representations  are 
repeated  again  and  again.  Of  the  ancient  philosophy  the 
greater  part  is  lost ;  the  remnant  is  chiefly  useful  as  a  his- 
torical phenomenon.  Not  a  single  treatise,  except  the  ge- 
ometry of  Euclid,  continues  to  be  used  by  the  majority  of 
students  for  its  original  purpose.     But  the  poetry  of  those 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  85 

early  days  remains  fresh  as  in  the  morning  of  its  birth.  It 
will  always  preserve  its  youthful  glow,  for  it  appeals  not  to 
any  existing  standard  of  mental  acquisition,  but  to  a  broad 
and  common  nature  which  never  becomes  obsolete.    So  in 

/    the  theology  of  reason,  the  progress  of  science  has  antiquated 

some,  and  will  continue  to  modify  other  refinements ;  theory 

has  chased  theory  into  the  shades ;  but  the  theology  of  the 

heart,  letting  the  minor  accuracies  go  for  the  sake  of  hold- 

I  ing  strongly  upon  the  substance  of  doctrine,  need  not  al- 

I  ways  accommodate  itself  to  scientific  changes,  but  may  of- 
ten use  its  old  statements,  even  if,  when  literally  understood, 
they  be  incorrect,  and  it  thus  abides  as  permanent  as  are  the 
main  impressions  of  the  truth.  While  the  lines  of  specula- 
tion may  be  easily  erased,  those  of  emotion  are  furrowed 
into  the  soul,  and  can  be  smoothed  away  only  by  long-con- 
tinued friction.  What  its  abettors  feel,  they  feel  and  cling 
to,  and  think  they  know,  and  even  when  vanquished  they 
can  argue  still ;  or,  rather,  as  their  sentiments  do  not  come 
of  reasoning,  neither  do  they  flee  before  it.  Hence  the 
permanent  authority  of  certain  tones  of  voice  which  express 
a  certain  class  of  feelings.  Hence,  too,  the  delicacy  and  the 
peril  of  any  endeavor  to  improve  the  style  of  a  hymn-book 
or  liturgy,  to  amend  one  phrase  in  the  Common  Version  of 
the  Bible,  or  to  rectify  any  theological  terms,  however  in- 
convenient, which  have  once  found  their  home  in  the  alTec- 
tions  of  good  men.  The  heart  loves  its  old  friends,  and  so 
much  the  more  if  they  be  lame  and  blind.  Hence  the  fervid 
heat  of  a  controversy  when  it  is  provoked  by  an  assault 
upon  the  words,  not  the  truths  but  the  words,  which  have 


86  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

been  embosomed  in  the  love  of  the  Church.  Hence  the  Pil- 
grim of  Bunyan  travels  and  sings  from  land  to  land,  and 
will  be,  as  he  has  been,  welcome  around  the  hearthstone  of 
every  devout  household  from  age  to  age ;  while  Edwards  on 

/the  Will  and  Cudworth  on  Immutable  Morality,  knock  at 
many  a  good  man's  door,  only  to  be  turned  away  shaking 
the  dust  from  off  their  feet/ 

Having  considered  some  of  the  differences  between  the 
intellectual  and  the  emotive  theology,  let  us  now  glance,  as 
was  proposed,  at  some  of  the  influences  which  one  exerts  on 
the  other. 

And  first,  the  theology  of  the  intellect  illustrates  and  vivi- 
fies itself  by  that  of  feeling.  As  man  is  compounded  of  soul 
\\j  and  body,  and  his  inward  sensibilities  are  expressed  by  his 

outward  features,  so  his  faith  combines  ideas  logically  ac- 
curate with  conceptions  merely  illustrative  and  impressive. 
Our  tendency  to  unite  corporeal  forms  with  mental  views, 
may  be  a  premonition  that  we  are  destined  to  exist  here- 
after in  a  union  of  two  natures,  one  of  them  being  spirit, 
and  the  other  so  expressive  of  spirit  as  to  be  called  a  spirit- 
ual body.  We  lose  the  influence  of  literal  truth  upon  the 
sensibilities,  if  we  persevere  in  refusing  it  an  appropriate 
/  image.  We  must  add  a  body  to  the  soul  of  a  doctrine, 
'  whenever  we  would  make  it  palpable  and  enlivening.  It  is 
brought,  as  it  were,  into  our  presence  by  its  symbols,  as  a 
strong  passion  is  exhibited  to  us  by  a  gesture,  as  the  idea 
of  dignity  is  made  almost  visible  in  the  Apollo  Belvedere. 
A  picture  may,  in  itself,  be  superficial ;  but  it  expresses  the 
substantial  reality.     What  though  some  of  the  representa- 

^  Note  2,  in  Appendix. 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  87 

tions  which  feeHng  demands  be  a  mere  exponent  of  the 
exact  truth ;  they  are,  as  it  were,  that  very  truth.  What 
though  our  conceptions  be  only  the  most  expressive  signs 
of  the  actual  verity,  they  are  as  if  the  actual  verity  itself. 
They  are  substantially  accurate  when  not  literally  so  ;  moral 
truth,  when  not  historical.  The  whole  reality  is  at  least  as 
good,  as  solid  as  they  represent  it,  and  our  most  vivid  idea 
of  it  is  in  their  phases. 

The  whole  doctrine,  for  example,  of  the  spiritual  world, 
is  one  that  requires  to  be  made  tangible  by  an  embodiment. 
We  have  an  intellectual  belief  that  a  spirit  has  no  shape, 
and  occupies  no  space ;  that  a  human  soul,  so  soon  as  it  is 
dismissed  from  the  earth,  receives  more  decisive  tokens  than 
had  been  previously  given  it  of  its  Maker's  complacency  or 
displeasure,  has  a  clearer  knowledge  of  him,  a  larger  love 
or  a  sterner  hostility  to  him,  a  more  delightful  or  a  more 
painful  experience  of  his  control,  and  at  a  period  yet  to 
come  will  be  conjoined  with  a  body  unlike  the  earthly  one, 
yet  having  a  kind  of  identity  with  it,  and  furnishing  inlets 
for  new  and  peculiar  joys  or  woes.  It  is  the  judgment  of 
some  that  the  popular  tract  and  the  sermons  of  such  men 
as  Baxter  and  Whitefield  ought  to  exhibit  no  other  than 
this  intellectual  view  of  our  future  state.  But  such  an  in- 
tellectual view  is  too  general  to  be  embraced  by  the  feelings. 
They  are  balked  with  the  notion  of  a  spaceless,  formless  ex- 
istence, continuing  between  death  and  the  resurrection. 
They  regard  the  soul  as  turned  out  of  being  when  despoiled 
of  shape  and  extension.  They  represent  the  converted  is- 
lander of  the  Atlantic  as  rising,  when  he  leaves  the  earth,  to 


88  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

the  place  where  God  sitteth  upon  his  throne,  and  also  the 
renewed  islander  of  the  Pacific  as  ascending,  at  death,  from 
the  world  to  the  same  prescribed  spot.  When  pressed  with 
the  query,  how  two  antipodes  can  both  rise  up,  in  opposite 
directions,  to  one  locality,  they  have  nothing  to  reply.  They 
are  not  careful  to  answer  any  objection,  but  only  speak  right 
on.  They  crave  a  reality  for  the  soul,  for  its  coming  joys 
or  woes,  and  will  not  be  defrauded  of  this  solid  existence  by 
any  subtilized  theory.  So  tame  and  cold  is  the  common  idea 
of  an  intangible,  inaudible,  invisible  world,  that  few  will  as- 
pire for  the  rewards,  and  many  will  imagine  themselves  able 
to  endure  the  punishments  which  are  thus  rarified  into  the 
results  of  mere  thought.  Now  a  doctrine  of  the  intellect 
need  not,  and  should  not  empty  itself  of  its  substance  in  the 
view  of  men  because  it  is  too  delicate  for  their  gross  appre- 
hension. "God  giveth"  to  his  doctrine  "a  body  as  it  hath 
pleased  him,"  and  it  should  avail  itself  of  this  corporeal  man- 
ifestation for  the  sake  of  retaining  its  felt  reality.  If  it  let 
this  Scriptural  body  go,  all  is  gone  in  the  popular  conscious- 
ness. It  is  not  enough  for  the  intellect  to  prove  that  at  the 
resurrection  a  new  nature  will  be  incorporated  with  the  soul, 
and  will  open  avenues  to  new  bliss  or  woe;  it  must  vivify 
the  conception  of  this  mysterious  nature  and  its  mysterious 
experiences  by  the  picture  of  a  palm-branch,  a  harp,  a  robe, 
a  crown,  or  of  that  visible  enginery  of  death  which,  in  the 
common  view,  gives  a  substance  to  the  penalties  of  the  law. 
Our  demonstrable  ideas  of  the  judgment  are  so  abstract, 
that  they  will  seemingly  evaporate  unless  we  illustrate  them 
by  one  individual  day  of  the  grand  assize,  by  the  particular 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  89 

questionings  and  answerings,  the  opened  book,  and  other 
minute  formahties  of  the  court.  The  emotions  of  a  delicate 
taste  are,  of  course,  not  to  be  disregarded ;  but  it  is  a  canon 
of  criticism — is  it  not? — that  we  should  express  all  the  truth 
which  our  hearers  need,  and  express  it  in  the  words  which 
they  will  most  appropriately  feel.  The  doctrine  of  the  resur- 
rection also  seems  often  to  vanish  into  thin  air  by  an  over- 
scrupulous refinement  of  philosophical  terminology.  The 
intellect  allows  the  belief  that  our  future  bodies  will  be  iden- 
tical with  our  present,  just  as  really  as  it  allows  a  belief  that 
our  present  bodies  are  the  same  with  those  of  our  childhood, 
or  that  our  bodies  ever  feel  pleasure  or  pain,  or  that  the 
grass  is  green  or  the  sky  blue,  the  fire  warm  or  the  ice  cold, 
or  that  the  sun  rises  or  sets.  The  philosopher  may  reply, 
The  sun  does  not  rise  nor  set,  the  grass  is  not  green  nor  the 
sky  blue,  the  fire  is  not  warm  nor  the  ice  cold,  and  our  phys- 
ical nature  in  itself  is  not  sensitive.  The  man  responds, 
They  are  so  for  all  that  concerns  me.  The  philosopher  may 
affirm  that  our  present  bodies  are  not  precisely  identical 
with  those  of  our  childhood ;  the  man  answers.  They  are  so 
to  all  intents  and  purposes ;  and  when  we  practically  aban- 
don our  belief  in  our  physical  sameness  here,  then  we  may 
modify  our  faith  in  our  resumed  physical  identity  at  the  res- 
urrection. But  while  man  remains  man  upon  earth,  he  will 
not  give  up  the  forms  of  belief  which  he  feels  to  be  true. 
He  must  vivify  his  abstractions  by  images  which  quicken 
his  faith ;  and  even  if  these  images  should  lose  their  histori- 
cal life,  they  shall  have  a  resurrection  in  spiritual  realities. 
Through  our  external  existence,  the  Biblical  exhibitions  of 


90  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

our  future  state  will  be  found  to  have  a  deeper  a:nd  deeper 
significance.  They  will  be  found  to  be  literal  truth  itself, 
or  else  the  best  possible  symbols  by  which  that  truth  can 
be  shadowed  forth  to  men  incapable  of  reaching  either  its 
height  or  its  depth.  In  the  Bible  is  a  profound  philosophy 
^  which  no  man  has  fully  searched  out.  As  this  volume  ex- 
plains the  essence  of  virtue  by  the  particular  commands  of 
the  law,  the  sinfulness  of  our  race  by  incidents  in  the  bi- 
ography of  Adam,  the  character  of  Jehovah  by  the  historical 
examples  of  his  love,  and  especially  by  portraying  God 
manifest  in  the  flesh  ;  so,  with  the  intent  of  still  further 
adapting  truth  to  our  dull  apprehension,  it  condescends  to 
step  over  and  beyond  the  domain  of  literal  history,  and  to 
use  the  imagination  in  exciting  the  soul  to  spiritual  re- 
search ;  it  enrobes  itself  in  fabrics  woven  from  the  mate- 
rial world,  which  seems  as  if  it  were  formed  for  elucidating 
spiritual  truth ;  it  incarnates  all  doctrine,  that  the  way- 
faring man,  though  a  fool,  need  not  err,  and  that  all  flesh 
may  see  the  salvation  of  God.' 

But  the  sensitive  part  of  our  nature  not  only  quickens  the 
percipient,  by  requiring  and  suggesting  expressive  illus- 
trations, it  alsoi  furnishes  principles  from  which  the  reason- 
ing faculty  deduces  important  inferences.  I,  therefore,  re- 
mark in  the  second  place : 

The  theology  of  the  intellect  enlarges  and  improves  that 
of  the  feelings,  and  is  also  enlarged  and  improved  by  it. 
The  more  extensive  and  accurate  are  our  views  of  literal 
truth,  so  much  the  more  numerous  and  salutary  are  the 

^  Note  3,  in  Appendix. 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  91 

forms  which  it  may  assume  for  enHsting  the  affections.  A 
system  of  doctrines  logically  drawn  out,  not  only  makes  its 
own  appeal  to  the  heart,  but  also  provides  materials  for  the 
imagination  to  clothe  so  as  to  allure  the  otherwise  dormant 
sensibility.  The  perceptive  power  looks  right  forward  to 
the  truth  (for  this  end  was  it  made) ;  from  it  turns  to  neither 
side  for  utihtarian  purposes,  but  presses  straight  forward  to 
its  object ;  yet  every  doctrine  which  it  discovers  is  in  reality 
practical,  calling  forth  some  emotion,  and  this  emotion  ani- 
mates the  sensitive  nature  which  is  not  diseased,  deepen- 
ing its  love  of  knowledge,  elevating  and  widening  the  re- 
ligious system  which  is  to  satisfy  it.  Every  new  article  of 
the  good  man's  belief  elicits  love  or  hatred,  and  this  love  or 
hatred  so  modifies  the  train  and  phasis  of  his  meditations, 
as  to  augment  and  improve  the  volume  of  his  heart's  the- 
ology. 

It  is  a  tendency  of  pietism  to  undervalue  the  human  intel- 
lect for  the  sake  of  exalting  the  affections ;  as  if  sin  had  less 
to  do  with  the  feelings  than  with  the  intelligence;  as  if  a 
deceived  heart  had  never  turned  men  aside ;  as  if  the  reason 
had  fallen  deeper  than  the  will.  Rather  has  the  will  fallen 
from  the  intellectual  powers,  while  they  remain  truer  than 
any  other  to  their  office.  It  cannot  be  a  pious  act  to  under- 
rate those  powers,  given  as  they  were  by  Him  who  made  the 
soul  in  his  image.  Our  speculative  tendencies  are  original, 
legitimate  parts  of  the  constitution  which  it  is  irreverent  to 
censure.  We  must  speculate.  We  must  define,  distinguish, 
infer,  arrange  our  inferences  in  a  system.  Our  spiritual  one- 
ness, completeness,  progress,  require  it.    We  lose  our  civili- 


92  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

zation,  so  far  forth  as  we  depreciate  a  philosophy  truly  so 
called.  Our  faith  becomes  a  wild  or  weak  sentimentalism  if 
we  despise  logic.  God  has  written  upon  our  minds  the  in- 
effaceable law  that  they  search  after  the  truth,  whatever, 
wherever  it  be,  however  arduous  the  toil  for  it,  whitherso- 
ever it  may  lead.  Let  it  come.  Even  if  it  should  promise 
nothing  to  the  utilitarian,  there  are  yet  within  us  the 
mirabiles  amoves  to  find  it  out.  A  sound  heart  is  alive  with 
this  curiosity,  and  will  not  retain  its  health  while  its  aspira- 
tions are  rebuffed.  It  gives  no  unbroken  peace  to  the  man 
who  thwarts  his  reasoning  instincts ;  for  amid  all  its  con- 
flicting demands,  it  is  at  times  importunate  for  a  reasonable 
belief.  When  it  is  famished  by  an  idle  intellect,  it  loses  its 
tone,  becomes  bigoted  rather  than  inquisitive,  and  takes  up 
vvdth  theological  fancies  which  reduce  it  still  lower.  When 
it  is  fed  by  an  inquiring  mind  it  is  enlivened,  and  reaches  out 
for  an  expanded  faith.  If  the  intellect  of  the  Church  be  re- 
pressed, that  of  the  world  will  not  be,  and  the  schools  will 
urge  forward  an  unsanctified  philosophy  which  good  men 
will  be  too  feeble  to  resist,  and  under  the  influence  of  which 
the  emotions  will  be  suited  with  forms  of  belief  more  and 
more  unworthy,  narrow,  debasing. 

But  the  theology  of  reason  not  only  amends  and  amplifies 
that  of  the  affections,  it  is  also  improved  and  enlarged  by  it. 
■  One  tendency  of  rationalism  is,  tO'  undervalue  the  heart  for 
the  sake  of  putting  the  crown  upon  the  head.  This  is  a 
good  tendency  when  appUed  to  those  feelings  which  are 
wayward  and  deceptive,  but  an  irrational  one  when  applied 
to  those  which  are  unavoidable  and  therefore  innocent,  still 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  93 

more  to  those  which  are  holy  and  therefore  entitled  to  our 
reverence.  Whenever  a  feeling  is  constitutional  and  cannot 
be  expelled,  whenever  it  is  pious  and  cannot  but  be  approved, 
then  such  of  its  impulses  as  are  uniform,  self-consistent  and 
persevering  are  data  on  which  the  intellect  may  safely  rea- 
son, and  by  means  of  which  it  may  add  new  materials  to 
its  dogmatic  system.  Our  instinctive  feelings  in  favor  of 
the  truth,  that  all  men  in  the  future  life  will  be  judged,  re- 
warded or  punished  by  an  all-wise  Lawgiver,  are  logical 
premises  from  which  this  truth  is  an  inference  regular  in 
mood  and  figure.  Every  man,  atheist  even,  has  certain 
constitutional  impulses  to  call  on  the  name  of  some  divinity ; 
and  these  impulses  give  evidence  that  he  ought  to  pray, 
just  as  the  convolutions  of  a  vine's  tendrils  and  their  reach- 
ing out  to  grasp  the  trellis,  signify  that  in  order  to  attain 
its  full  growth  the  vine  must  cling  to  a  support.  The  wing 
or  the  web-foot  of  an  animal  is  no  more  conclusive  proof 
of  its  having  been  made  with  the  design  that  it  should  fly 
or  swim,  than  the  instinctive  cravings  of  the  soul  for  a  posi- 
tive, a  historical,  a  miraculously  attested  religion,  with  its 
Sabbaths  and  its  ministry,  are  arguments  that  the  soul  was 
intended  for  the  enjoyment  of  such  a  religion.  If  the  Bible 
could  be  proved  to  be  a  myth,  it  would  still  be  a  divine 
myth ;  for  a  narrative  so  wonderfully  fitted  for  penetrating 
through  all  the  different  avenues  to  the  different  sensibili- 
ties of  the  soul,  must  have  a  moral  if  not  a  literal  truth.  And 
so  it  appears  to  me,  that  the  doctrines  which  concenter  in 
and  around  a  vicarious  atonement  are  so  fitted  to  the  appe- 
tences of  a  sanctified  heart,  as  to  gain  the  favor  of  a  logician, 


94  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

precisely  as  the  coincidence  of  some  geological  or  astronom- 
ical theories  with  the  phenomena  of  the  earth  or  sky,  is 
a  part  of  the  syllogism  which  has  these  theories  for  its  con- 
clusion.    Has  man  been  created  with  irresistible  instincts 
which  impel  him  to  believe  in  a  falsehood?     Or  has  the 
Christian  been  inspired  with  holy  emotions  which  allure 
him  to  an  essentially  erroneous  faith?  Is  God  the  author  of 
confusion ; — in  his  Word  revealing  one  doctrine  and  by  his 
Spirit  persuading  his  saints  to  reject  it?    If  it  be  a  fact  that 
the  faithful  of  past  ages,  after  having  longed  and  sighed  and 
wrestled  and  prayed  for  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  have  at 
length  found  their  aspirations  rewarded  by  any  one  sub- 
stance of  belief,  does  not  their  unanimity  indicate  the  cor- 
rectness of  their  cherished  faith,  as  the  agreement  of  many 
witnesses  presupposes  the  verity  of  the  narration  in  which 
they  coincide?     In  its  minute  philosophical  forms,  it  may 
not  be  the  truth  for  which  they  yearned,  but  in  its  central 
principles  have  they  one  and  all  been  deceived?    Then  have 
they  asked  in  tears  for  the  food  of  the  soul,  and  a  prayer- 
hearing  Father  has  given  them  a  stone  for  bread. 

Decidedly  as  we  resist  the  pretension  that  the  Church  is 
infallible,  there  is  one  sense  in  which  this  pretension  is  well 
founded.  Her  metaphysicians,  as  such,  are  not  free  from 
error,  nor  her  philologists,  nor  any  of  her  scholars,  nor  her 
ministers,  nor  councils.  She  is  not  infallible  in  her  bodies  of 
divinity,  nor  her  creeds,  nor  catechisms,  nor  any  logical 
formulae;  but  underneath  all  her  intellectual  refinements 
Hes  a  broad  substance  of  doctrine,  around  which  the  feel- 
ings of  all  renewed  men  cling  ever  and  everywhere,  into 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  95 

which  they  penetrate  and  take  root,  and  this  substance  must 
be  right,  for  it  is  precisely  adjusted  to  the  soul,  and  the  soul 
was  made  for  it. 

These  universal  feelings  provide  us  with  a  test  for  our 
own  faith.  Whenever  we  find,  my  brethren,  that  the  words 
which  we  proclaim  do  not  strike  a  responsive  chord  in  the 
hearts  of  the  choice  men  and  women  who  look  up  to  us  for 
consolation,  when  they  do  not  stir  the  depths  of  our  own 
souls,  reach  down  to  our  hidden  wants,  and  evoke  sensibili- 
ties which  otherwise  had  lain  buried  under  the  cares  of 
time ;  or  when  they  make  an  abiding  impression  that  the 
divine  government  is  harsh,  pitiless,  insincere,  oppressive, 
devoid  of  sympathy  with  our  most  refined  sentiments,  reck- 
less of  even  the  most  delicate  emotion  of  the  tenderest  na- 
ture, then  we  may  infer  that  we  have  left  out  of  our  theology 
some  element  which  we  should  have  inserted,  or  have 
brought  into  it  some  element  which  we  should  have  dis- 
carded. Somewhere  it  must  be  wrong.  If  it  leave  the  sensi- 
bilities torpid,  it  needs  a  larger  infusion  of  those  words 
which  Christ  defined  by  saying,  they  are  spirit,  they  are  life. 
If  it  merely  charm  the  ear  like  a  placid  song,  it  is  not  the 
identical  essence  which  is  likened  to  the  fire  and  the  ham- 
mer. Our  sensitive  nature  is  sometimes  a  kind  of  instinct 
which  anticipates  many  truths,  incites  the  mind  to  search 
for  them,  intimates  the  process  of  the  investigation,  and  re- 
mains unsatisfied,  restive,  so  long  as  it  is  held  back  from  the 
object  toward  which  it  gropes  its  way,  even  as  a  plant  bends 
itself  forward  to  the  light  and  warmth  of  the  sun.^ 

'  Note  4,  in  Appendix. 


:^ 


96  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

But  while  the  theology  of  reason  derives  aid  from  the  im- 
pulses of  emotion,  it  maintains  its  ascendency  over  them. 
In  all  investigations  for  truth,  the  intellect  must  be  the 
authoritative  power,  employing  the  sensibilities  as  indices 
of  right  doctrine,  but  surveying  and  superintending  them 
from  its  commanding  elevation.  It  may  be  roughly  com- 
pared to  the  pilot  of  a  ship,  who  intelligently  directs  and 
turns  the  rudder,  although  himself  and  the  entire  vessel  are 
also  turned  by  it.  We  are  told  that  a  wise  man's  eyes  are 
in  his  head ;  now  although  they  cannot  say  to  the  hand  or 
the  foot,  we  have  no  need  of  you,  it  is  yet  their  prerogative 
to  determine  whither  the  hand  or  foot  shall  move.  The  in- 
tellectual theology  will  indeed  reform  itself  by  suggestions 
derived  from  the  heart,  for  its  law  is  to  exclude  every  dogma 
which  does  not  harmonize  with  the  well-ordered  sensibili- 
ties of  the  soul.  It  regards  a  want  of  concinnity  in  a  sys- 
tem, as  a  token  of  some  false  principle.  And  as  it  will  mod- 
ify itself  in  order  to  avoid  the  error  involved  in  a  contradic- 
tion, so  and  for  the  same  reason  it  has  authority  in  the  last 
resort  to  rectify  the  statements  which  are  often  congenial 
with  excited  emotion.  I,  therefore,  remark  in  the  third 
place : 

The  theology  of  the  intellect  explains  that  of  feeling  into 
an  essential  agreement  with  all  the  constitutional  demands 
of  the  soul.  It  does  this  by  collating  the  discordant  repre- 
sentations which  the  heart  allows,  and  eliciting  the  one  self- 
consistent  principle  which  underlies  them.  It  places  side  by 
side  the  contradictory  statements  which  receive,  at  different 
times,  the  sympathies  of  a  spirit  as  it  is  moved  by  different 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  97 

impulses.  It  exposes  the  impossibility  of  believing  all  these 
statements,  without  qualifying  some  of  them  so  as  to  pre- 
vent their  subverting  each  other.  In  order  to  qualify  them 
in  the  right  way,  it  details  their  origin,  reveals  their  intent, 
unfolds  their  influence,  and  by  such  means  eliminates  the 
principle  in  which  they  all  agree  for  substance  of  doctrine. 
When  this  principle  has  been  once  detected  and  disengaged 
from  its  conflicting  representations,  it  reacts  upon  them, 
explains,  modifies,  harmonizes  their  meaning.  Thus  are 
the  mutually  repellent  forces  set  over  against  each  other,  so 
as  to  neutralize  their  opposition  and  to  combine  in  produc- 
ing one  and  the  same  movement.     « 

Seizing  strongly  upon  some  elements  of  a  comprehensive 
doctrine,  the  Bible  paints  the  unrenewed  heart  as  a  stone 
needing  to  be  exchanged  for  flesh ;  and  again,  not  as  a 
stone,  but  as  flesh  needing  to  be  turned  into  spirit ;  and  yet 
again,  neither  as  a  stone  nor  as  flesh,  but  as  a  darkened  spirit 
needing  to  be  illumined  with  the  light  of  knowledge.  Tak- 
ing a  vigorous  hold  of  yet  other  elements  in  the  same 
doctrine,  the  Bible  portrays  this  heart  not  as  ignorant  and 
needing  to  be  enlightened,  but  as  dead  and  needing  to  be 
made  alive ;  and  further,  not  as  dead  but  as  living  and  need- 
ing to  die,  to  be  crucified,  and  buried ;  and  further  still,  not 
as  in  need  of  a  resurrection  or  of  a  crucifixion,  but  of  a  new 
creation ;  and  once  more,  as  requiring  neither  to  be  slain, 
nor  raised  from  death,  nor  created  anew,  but  to  be  born 
again.  For  the  sake  of  vividly  describing  other  features  of 
the  same  truth,  the  heart  is  exhibited  as  needing  to  be  called 
or  drawn  to  God,  or  to  be  enlarged  or  circumcised  or  puri- 


98  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

fied  or  inscribed  with  a  new  law,  or  endued  with  new 
graces.  And  for  the  purpose  of  awakening  interest  in  a  dis- 
tinct phase  of  this  truth,  all  the  preceding  forms  are  inverted 
and  man  is  summoned  to  make  himself  a  new  heart,  or  to 
give  up  his  old  one,  or  to  become  a  little  child,  or  to  cleanse 
himself,  or  to  unstop  his  deaf  ears  and  hear,  or  to  open  his 
blinded  eyes  and  see,  or  to  awake  from  sleep,  or  rise  from 
death.  Literally  understood,  these  expressions  are  disso- 
nant from  each  other.  Their  dissonance  adds  to  their  em- 
phasis. Their  emphasis  fastens  our  attention  upon  the 
principle  in  which  they  all  agree.  This  principle  is  too  vast 
to  be  vividly  uttered  in  a  single  formula,  and  therefore 
branches  out  into  various  parts,  and  the  lively  exhibition 
of  one  part  contravenes  an  equally  impressive  statement  of 
a  difierent  one.  The  intellect  educes  light  from  the  collision 
of  these  repugnant  phrases,  and  then  modifies  and  recon- 
ciles them  into  the  doctrine,  that  the  character  of  our  race 
needs  an  essential  transformation  by  an  interposed  influence 
from  God.  But  how  soon  would  this  doctrine  lose  its  vi- 
vacity, if  it  were  not  revealed  in  these  dissimilar  forms,  all 
jutting  up  like  the  hills  of  a  landscape  from  a  common  sub- 
stratum ! 

We  may  instance  another  set  of  the  heart's  phrases 
which,  instead  of  coalescing  with  each  other  in  a  dull  same- 
ness, engage  our  curiosity  by  their  disagreement,  and  exer- 
cise the  analytic  power  in  unloosing  and  laying  bare  the  one 
principle  which  forms  their  basis.  Bowed  down  under  the 
experience  of  his  evil  tendencies,  which  long  years  of  pain- 
ful resistance  have  not  subdued,  trembling  before  the  ever 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 


99 


recurring  fascinations  which  have  so  often  enticed  him  into 
crime,  the  man  of  God  longs  to  abase  himself,  and  exclaims 
without  one  modifying  word :  "I  am  too  frail  for  my  re- 
sponsibilities, and  have  no  power  to  do  what  is  required  of 
me."  But  in  a  brighter  moment,  admiring  the  exuberance 
of  divine  generosity,  thankful  for  the  large  gifts  which  his 
munificent  Father  has  lavished  upon  him,  elevated  with 
adoring  views  of  the  equitable  One  who  never  reaps  where 
he  has  not  sown,  the  same  man  of  God  offers  his  unqualified 
thanksgiving:  "I  know  thee  that  thou  art  not  an  hard 
master,  exacting  of  me  duties  which  I  have  no  power  to  dis- 
charge, but  thou  attemperest  thy  law  to  my  strength,  and 
at  no  time  imposest  upon  me  a  heavier  burden  than  thou  at 
that  very  time  makest  me  able  to  bear."  In  a  diflferent 
mood,  when  this  same  man  is  thinking  of  the  future,  fore- 
seeing his  temptations  to  an  easily-besetting  sin,  shuddering 
at  the  danger  of  committing  it,  dreading  the  results  of  a 
proud  reliance  on  his  own  virtue,  he  becomes  importunate 
for  aid  from  above,  and  pours  out  his  entreaty,  with  not  one 
abating  clause:  "I  am  nothing  and  less  than  nothing;  I 
have  no  power  to  refrain  from  the  sin  which  tempts  me: 
help,  Lord,  help ;  for  thou  increasest  strength  to  him  who 
hath  no  might."  But  in  still  another  mood,  when  the  same 
man  is  thinking  of  the  past,  weeping  over  the  fact  that  he 
has  now  indulged  in  the  very  crime  which  he  feared,  resist- 
ing every  inducement  to  apologize  for  it,  blaming  himself, 
himself  alone,  himself  deeply  for  so  ungrateful,  unreason- 
able, inexcusable  an  act,  he  makes  the  unmitigated  confes- 
sion, with  his  hand  upon  his  heart ;   he  dares  not  qualify  his 


lOO  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

acknowledgment:  "I  could  have  avoided  that  sin  which  I 
preferred  to  commit ;  woe  is  me,  for  I  have  not  done  as  well 
as  I  might  have  done ;  if  I  had  been  as  holy  as  I  had  power 
to  be,  than  had  I  been  perfect ;  and  if  I  say  I  have  been  per- 
fect, that  shall  prove  me  perverse."     Thus,  when  looking 
backward,  the  sensitive  Christian  insists  upon  his  compe- 
tency to  perform  an  act,  and  fears  that  a  denial  of  it  would 
bsnish  his  penitence  for  transgression;  but  when  looking 
forward,  he  insists  upon  his  incompetency  to  perform  the 
same  act,  and  fears  that  a  denial  of  this  would  weaken  his 
feeling  of  dependence  on  God.    Without  a  syllable  of  abate- 
ment, he  now  makes  a  profession,  and  then  recalls  it  as  thus 
unqualified,  afterward  reiterates  his  once  recalled  avowal, 
and  again  retracts  what  he  had  once  and  again  repeated.    It 
is  the  oscillating  language  of  the  emotions  which,  like  the 
strings  of  an  ^olian  harp,  vibrate  in  unison  with  the  vary- 
ing winds.     It  is    nature  in  her  childlike    simplicity,  that 
prompts  the  soul  when  swayed  in  opposing  directions  by 
dissimilar   thoughts,   to   vent   itself   in    these   antagonistic 
phrases,  awakening  the  intenser  interest  by  their  very  an- 
tagonism.    What  if  they  do,  when  unmodified,  contradict 
each  other?  An  impassioned  heart  recoils  from  a  contradic- 
tion no  more  than  the  war-horse  of  Job  starts  back  from 
the  battle-field. 

The  reason,  however,  being  that  circumspect  power 
which  looks  before  and  after  and  to  either  side,  does  not 
allow  that  of  these  conflicting  statements,  each  can  be  true 
save  in  a  qualified  sense.  It,  therefore,  seeks  out  some  prin- 
ciple which  will  combine  these  two  extremes,  as  a  magnet 


A'y 


►o 

k"" 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  loi 

its  opposite  poles ;  some  principle  which  will  rectify  one  of 
these  discrepant  expressions  by  explaining  it  into  an  es- 
sential agreement  with  the  other.     And  the    principle,    I 
/  think,  which  restores  this  harmony,  is  the  comprehensive 
1   one,  that  man  with  no  extraordinary  aid  from  divine  grace 
is  obstinate,  undeviating,  unrelenting,  persevering,  dogged, 
fully  set  in  those  wayward  preferences  which  are  an  abuse 
of  his  freedom.     His  unvaried  wrong  choices  imply  a  full, 
/  unremitted,  natural  power  of  choosing  right.    The  emotive 
theology  therefore,  when  it  affirms  this  power,  is  correct 
both  in  matter  and  style ;   but  when  it  denies  this  power,  it 
uses  the  language  of  emphasis,  of  impression,  of  intensity ; 
it  means  the  certainty  of  wrong  preference  by  declaring  the 
inability  of  right ;   and  in  its  vivid  use  of  cannot  for  will  not 
is  accurate  in  its  substance  though  not  in  its  form.     Yet 
even  here  it  is  no  more  at  variance'  with  the  intellectual 
theology  than  with  itself,  and  the  discordance,  being  one  of 
letter  rather  than  of  spirit,  is  removed  by  an  explanation 
which  makes  the  eloquent  style  of  the  feelings  at  one  with 
the  more  definite  style  of  the  reason.^ 

But  I  am  asked,  "Do  you  not  thus  explain  away  the  lan- 
guage of  the  emotions?"  No.  The  contradictoriness,  the  lit- 
eral absurdity  is  explained  out  of  it,  but  the  language  is  not 
explained  away ;  for  even  when  dissonant  with  the  precise 
truth,  it  has  a  significancy  more  profound  than  can  be 
pressed  home  upon  the  heart  by  any  exact  definitions.  "Do 
you  not  make  it  a  mere  flourish  of  rhetoric?"  I  am  asked 
again.    It  is  no  flourish ;  it  is  the  utterance  that  comes  well- 

^  Note  5,  in  Appendix. 


I02  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

ing  up  from  the  depths  of  our  moral  nature,  and  is  too  ear- 
nest to  wait  for  the  niceties  of  logic.  It  is  the  breathing  out 
of  an  emotion  which  will  not  stop  for  the  accurate  measure- 
ment of  its  words,  but  leaves  themi  to  be  qualified  by  the 
good  sense  of  men. 

"If,  however,  this  language  be  not  exactly  true,"  I  am  fur- 
ther asked,  ''how  can  it  move  the  heart?"  We  are  so  made  as 
to  be  moved  by  it.  It  is  an  ultimate  law  of  our  being,  that 
a  vivid  conception  affects  us  by  inspiring  a  momentary  be- 
lief in  the  thing  which  is  conceived.  "But,"  the  objector  con- 
tinues, "can  the  soul  be  favorably  influenced  by  that  which 
it  regards  as  hyperbohcal?"  Hyperbolical!  What  is  hyper- 
bolical? Who  calls  this  language  an  exaggeration  of  the 
truth?  If  interpreted  by  the  letter,  it  does  indeed  transcend 
the  proper  bounds :  but  if  interpreted  as  it  is  meant,  as  it  is 
felt,  it  falls  far  short  of  them.  To  the  eye  of  a  child  the 
moon's  image  in  the  diorama  may  appear  larger  than  the 
real  moon  in  the  heavens,  but  not  to  the  mind  of  a  philos- 
opher. The  literal  doctrines  of  theology  are  too  vast  for 
complete  expression  by  man,  and  our  intensest  words  are 
but  a  distant  approximation  to  that  language  which  forms 
the  new  song  that  the  redeemed  in  heaven  sing;  language 
which  is  unutterable  in  this  infantile  state  of  our  being,  and 
in  comparison  with  which  our  so-called  extravagances  are 
but  feeble  and  tame  diminutives. 

Astronomers  have  recommended,  that  in  order  to  feel 
the  grandeur  of  the  stellary  system  we  mentally  reduce  the 
scale  on  which  it  is  made ;  that  we  imagine  our  earth  to  be 
only  a  mile  in  diameter,  and  the  other  globes  to  be  proper- 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  103 

tionally  lessened  in  their  size  and  in  their  distances  from 
each  other ;  for  the  real  greatness  of  the  heavens  discourages 
our  very  attempt  to  impress  our  hearts  by  them,  and  we  are 
the  more  affected  by  sometimes  narrowing  our  conceptions 
of  what  we  cannot  at  the  best  comprehend.  On  the  same 
principle,  Christian  moralists  have  advised  us  not  always  to 
dilate  our  minds  in  reaching  after  the  extreme  boundaries 
of  a  doctrine,  but  often  to  draw  in  our  contemplations,  to 
lower  the  doctrine  for  a  time,  to  bring  our  intellect  down 
in  order  to  discern  the  practical  truth  more  clearly,  to 
humble  our  views  in  order  that  they  may  be  at  last  exalted, 
to  stoop  low  in  order  to  pick  up  the  keys  of  knowledge ; — 
and  is  this  a  way  of  exaggerating  the  truth?  We  do  err,  not 
knozving  the  Scriptures  nor  the  poiver  of  God,  if  we  imagine 
that  when,  for  example,  he  says,  the  enemies  that  touch  his 
saints  touch  "the  apple  of  his  eye,"  and  "he  will  lift  up  an 
ensign  to  the  nations  from  far,  and  wall  hiss  unto  them  from 
the  end  of  the  earth,"  he  uses  a  mere  hyperbole.  No.  Such 
anthropopathical  words  are  the  most  expressive  which  the 
debilitated  heart  of  his  Oriental  people  would  appreciate, 
but  they  fail  of  making  a  full  disclosure ;  they  are  only  the 
foreshadowings  of  the  truths  which  He  behind  them.  These 
refined,  spiritual  truths,  the  intellect  goes  round  about  and 
surveys,  but  is  too  faint  for  graphically  delineating,  and  it 
gives  up  the  attempt  to  the  imagination,  and  this  many- 
sided  faculty  multiplies  symbol  after  symbol,  bringing  one 
image  for  one  feature,  and  another  image  for  another  feat- 
ure, and  hovers  over  the  feeble  emotions  of  the  heart,  and 
strives  to  win  them  out  from  their  dull  repose  even  as  "an 


I04  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

eagle  stirreth  up  her  nest,  fluttereth  over  her  young, 
spreadeth  abroad  her  wings,  taketh  them,  beareth  them 
on  her  wings."  Into  more  susceptible  natures  than  ours 
the  literal  verities  of  God  will  penetrate  far  deeper  than, 
even  when  shaped  in  their  most  pungent  forms,  they  will 
pierce  into  our  obdurate  hearts.  So  lethargic  are  we,  that 
we  often  yield  no  answering  sensibilities  to  intellectual 
statements  of  doctrine;  so  weak  are  we,  that  such  pas- 
sionate appeals  as  are  best  accommodated  to  our  phlegmat- 
ic temper  are  after  all  no  more  than  dilutions  of  the  truth, 
as  "seen  of  angels ;"  and  still  so  fond  are  we  of  harmony 
with  ourselves,  that  we  must  explain  these  diluted  repre- 
sentations into  unison  with  the  intellectual  statements 
which,  however  unimpressive,  are  yet  the  most  authorita- 
tive.' 

We  are  now  prepared  for  our  fourth  remark : — The  the- 
ology of  the  intellect  and  that  of  feeling  tend  to  keep  each 
other  within  the  sphere  for  which  they  were  respectively 
designed,  and  in  which  they  are  fitted  to  improve  the  char- 
acter. Both  of  them  have  precisely  the  same  sphere  with  re- 
gard to  many  truths,  but  not  with  regard  to  all.  When  an 
intellectual  statement  is  transferred  to  the  province  of  emo- 
tion, it  often  appears  chilling,  lifeless ;  and  when  a  passion- 
ate phrase  is  transferred  to  the  dogmatic  province,  it  often 
appears  grotesque,  unintelligible,  absurd.  Many  expres- 
sions of  sentiment  are  what  they  ought  to  be,  if  kept  where 
they  ought  to  be ;  but  a  narrow  creed  displaces  and  thus 
spoils  them.    It  often  becomes  licentious  or  barbarous,  by 

^  Note  6,  in  Appendix. 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  105 

stiffening  into  prosaic  statements  the  free  descriptions 
which  the  Bible  gives  of  the  kindliness  or  the  wrath  of  God. 
The  very  same  words  are  allowed  in  one  relation,  but  con- 
demned in  a  different  one,  because  in  the  former  they  do, 
but  in  the  latter  do  not,  harmonize  with  the  sensibilities 
which  are  at  the  time  predominant.  When  we  are  enthusi- 
astic in  extolling  the  generosity  of  divine  love,  we  feel  no 
need  of  modifying  our  proclamation  that  God  desires  all 
men  to  be  saved,  and  in  these  uninquisitive  moods  we  have 
no  patience  with  the  query  which  occupies  our  more  studi- 
ous hours,  "whether  he  desire  this  good  all  things,  or  only 
itself  considered."  Often,  though  not  in  every  instance,  the 
solid  philosophy  of  doctrine,  descending  into  an  exhorta- 
tion, makes  it  cumbrous  and  heavy ;  and  as  often  the  pas- 
sionate forms  of  appeal,  when  they  claim  to  be  literal  truth, 
embarrass  the  intellect  until  they  are  repelled  by  it  into 
the  circle  distinctively  allotted  them. 

At  the  time  when  the  words  were  uttered,  there  could  not 
be  a  more  melting  address  than,  "If  I  then,  your  Lord  and 
Master,  have  washed  your  feet ;  ye  also  ought  to  wash  one 
another's  feet ;  "  but  when  this  touching  sentiment  is  inter- 
preted as  a  legal  exaction,  an  argument  for  a  Moravian  or 
Romish  ceremony,  its  poetic  elegance  is  petrified  into  a  pro- 
saic blunder.  There  are  moments  in  the  stillness  of  our 
communion  service,  when  we  feel  that  our  Lord  is  with  us, 
when  the  bread  and  the  wine  so  enliven  our  conceptions  of 
his  body  and  blood  as,  according  to  the  law  of  vivid  concep- 
tion, to  bring  them  into  our  ideal  presence,  and  to  make  us 
demand  the  saying,  as  more  pertinent  and  fit  than  any  other, 


io6  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

"This  is  my  body,  this  is  my  blood."  But  no  sooner  are  these 
phrases  transmuted  from  hearty  utterances  into  intellectual 
judgments,  than  they  merge  their  beautiful  rhetoric  into 
an  absurd  logic,  and  are  at  once  repulsed  by  a  sound  mind 
into  their  pristine  sphere.  So  there  is  a  depth  of  significance 
which  our  superficial  powers  do  not  fathom,  in  the  lamenta- 
tion: "Behold,  I  was  shapen  in  iniquity;  and  in  sin  did  my 
mother  conceive  me."  This  will  always  remain  the  passage 
for  the  outflow  of  his  grief,  whose  fountains  of  penitence  are 
broken  up.  The  channel  is  worn  too  deep  into  the  affec- 
tions to  be  easily  changed.  Let  the  schools  reason  about  it 
just  as,  and  as  long  as,  they  please.  Let  them  condemn  it 
as  indecorous,  or  false,  or  absurd,  and  the  man  who  utters  it 
as  unreasonable,  fanatical,  bigoted.  Let  them  challenge  him 
for  his  meaning,  and  insist  with  the  rigidness  of  the  judge 
of  Shylock,  that  he  weigh  out  the  import  of  every  word,, 
every  syllable,  no  more,  no  less : — they  do  not  move  him 
one  hair's  breadth.  He  stands  where  he  stood  before,  and 
where  he  will  stand  until  disenthralled  from  the  body.  "My 
meaning,"  he  says,  "is  exact  enough  for  me,  too  exact  for 
my  repose  of  conscience ;  and  I  care  just  now  for  no  proof 
clearer  than  this :  'Behold,  I  zvas  shapen  in  iniquity  ;  and 
in  sin  did  my  mother  conceive  me.'  Here,  on  my  heart,  the 
burden  lies,  and  I  fed  that  I  am  vile,  a  man  of  unclean  lips, 
and  dwell  amid  a  people  of  unclean  lips,  and  I  went  astray 
as  soon  as  I  was  born,  and  am  of  a  perverse,  rebellious 
race,  and  there  is  a  tide  swelling  within  me  and  around 
me,  and  moving  me  on  to  actual  trangression,  and  it  is 
stayed  by  none  of  my  unaided  efforts,  and  all  its  billows  roll 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  107 

over  me,  and  I  am  so  troubled  that  I  cannot  speak ;  and  I 
am  not  content  with  merely  saying  that  I  am  a  transgres- 
sor ;  I  long  to  heap  infinite  upon  infinite,  and  crowd  to- 
gether all  forms  of  self-reproach,  for  I  am  clad  in  sin  as  with 
a  garment,  I  devour  it  as  a  sweet  morsel,  I  breathe  it,  I  live 
it,  I  am  sin.  My  hands  are  stained  with  it,  my  feet  are  swift 
in  it,  all  my  bones  are  out  of  joint  with  it,  my  whole  body  is 
of  tainted  origin,  and  of  death  in  its  influence  and  end ;  and 
here  is  my  definition  and  here  is  my  proof,  and,  definition  or 
no  definition,  proof  or  no  proof,  here  I  plant  myself,  and 
here  I  stay,  for  this  is  my  feeling,  and  it  comes  up  from  the 
depths  of  an  overflowing  heart :  'Behold,  I  was  shapen  in 
iniquity:  and  in  sin  did  my  mother  conceive  me.'  "  But  when  a 
theorist  seizes  at  such  living  words  as  these,  and  puts  them 
into  his  vice,  and  straightens  or  crooks  them  into  the  dog- 
ma, that  man  is  blamable  before  he  chooses  to  do  wrong; 
deserving  of  punishment  for  the  involuntary  nature  which 
he  has  never  consented  to  gratify ;  really  sinful  before  he 
actually  sins,  then  the  language  of  emotion,  forced  from  its 
right  place  and  treated  as  if  it  were  a  part  of  a  nicely  meas- 
ured syllogism,  hampers  and  confuses  his  reasonings,  until 
it  is  given  back  to  the  use  for  which  it  was  first  intended, 
and  from  which  it  never  ought  to  have  been  diverted/ 
When  men  thus  lose  their  sensitiveness  to  the  discrimina- 
tions between  the  style  of  judgment  and  that  of  feeling,  and 
when  they  force  the  latter  into  the  province  of  the  former, 
they  become  prone  to  undervalue  the  conscience,  and  to  be 
afraid  of  philosophy,  and  to  shudder  at  the  axioms  of  com- 

^  Note  7,  in  Appendix. 


io8  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

mon  sense,  and  to  divorce    faith  from  reason,  to  rely  on 
church  government  rather  than  on  fraternal  discussion. 

It  is  this  crossing  of  one  kind  of  theology  into  the  prov- 
ince of  another  kind  differing  from  the  first  mainly  in  fash- 
ion and  contour,  which  mars  either  the  eloquence  or  else  the 
doctrine  of  the  pulpit.  The  massive  speculations  of  the 
metaphysician  sink  down  into  his  expressions  of  feeling  and 
make  him  appear  cold-hearted,  while  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
impulsive  divine  ascends  and  effervesces  into  his  reasonings 
and  causes  him  both  to  appear,  and  to  be,  what  our  Saxon 
idiom  so  reprovingly  styles  him,  hot-headed.  There  are 
intellectual  critics  ready  to  exclude  from  our  psalms  and 
hymns  all  such  stanzas  as  are  not  accurate  expressions  of 
dogmatic  truth.  Forgetting  that  the  effort  at  precision  of- 
ten mars  the  freeness  of  song,  they  would  condemn  the 
simple-hearted  bard  to  joint  his  metaphors  into  a  syllogism, 
and  to  sing  as  a  logician  tries  to  sing.  In  the  same  spirit, 
they  would  expurgate  the  Paradise  Lost  of  all  phrases 
which  are  not  in  keeping  with  our  chemical  or  geological 
,  discoveries.  But  it  is  against  the  laws  of  our  sensitive  na- 
i  ture  to  square  the  effusions  of  poesy  by  the  scales,  compasses 
and  plumb-lines  of  the  intellect.  The  imagination  is  not  to 
be  used  as  a  dray-horse  for  carrying  the  lumber  of  the 
schools  through  the  gardens  of  the  Muses.  There  are  also 
poetical  critics  who  imagine  that  the  childHke  breathings  of 
our  psalmody  are  the  exact  measures,  the  literal  exponents 
of  truth,  and  that  every  doctrine  is  false  which  cannot  be 
transported  with  its  present  bodily  shape  into  a  sacred  lyric. 
But  this  is  as  shallow  an  idea  of  theology  as  it  is  a  mechani- 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  109 

cal,  spiritless,  vapid  conception  of  poetry.  If  this  be  true, 
then  my  real  belief  is,  that  "God  came  from  Teman  and  the 
Holy  One  from  Mount  Paran ;  that  he  did  ride  upon  his 
horses  and  chariots  of  salvation ;  the  mountains  saw  him  and 
they  trembled ;  the  sun  and  the  moon  stood  still ;  at  the 
light  of  his  arrows  they  went  and  the  shining  of  his  glitter- 
ing spear ;  he  did  march  through  the  land  in  indignation,  he 
did  thresh  the  heathen  in  anger."  And  if  this  be  the  lan- 
guage of  a  creed,  then  not  only  is  the  suggestion  of  Dr.  Ar- 
nold' a  right  one  that  "in  public  worship  a  symbol  of  faith 
should  be  used  as  a  triumphal  hymn  of  thanksgiving,  and 
be  chanted  rather  than  read,"  but  such  is  the  original  and 
proper  use  of  such  a  symbol  at  all  times.  And  if  this  be 
true,  then  I  shall  not  demur  at  phrases  in  a  Confession  of 
Faith,  over  which,  in  my  deliberate  perusal,  I  stagger  and 
am  at  my  wits'  end.  Wrap  me  in  mediaeval  robes  ;  place  me 
under  the  wide-spreading  arches  of  a  cathedral ;  let  the  tide 
of  melody  from  the  organ  float  along  the  columns  that 
branch  out  like  the  trees  of  the  forest  over  my  head ;  then 
bring  to  me  a  creed  written  in  illuminated  letters,  its  history 
redolent  of  venerable  associations,  its  words  fragrant  with 
tiie  devotion  of  my  fatherc,  who  lived  and  died  familiar  with 
them  ;  its  syllables  all  of  solemn  and  goodly  sound,  and  bid 
me  cantilate  its  phrases  to  the  inspired  notes  of  minstrelsy, 
iny  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling,  and  I  ask  no  questions  for 
conscience'  sake.  I  am  ready  to  believe  what  is  placed  be- 
fore me.  I  look  beyond  the  antique  words,  to  the  spirit  of 
some  great  truth  that  lingers  somewhere  around  them ;  and 

^  Life,  p.    102,   First   Am.  Ed. 


no  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

in  this  nebulous  view,  I  believe  the  creed  with  my  heart.  I 
may  be  even  so  rapt  in  enthusiasm  as  to  believe  it  because  it 
asserts  what  is  impossible.  Ask  me  not  to  prove  it, — I  am 
in  no  mood  for  proof.  Try  not  to  reason  me  out  of  it, — rea- 
soning does  me  no  good.  Call  not  for  my  precise  meaning, 
— I  have  not  viewed  it  in  that  light.  I  have  not  taken  the 
creed  so  much  as  the  creed  has  taken  me,  and  carried  me 
away  in  my  feelings  to  mingle  with  the  piety  of  bygone 
generations. 

But  can  it  be  that  this  is  the  only,  or  the  prim- 
itive, or  the  right  idea  of  a  symbol  of  faith?  For  this 
have  logicians  exhausted  their  subtleties,  and  martyrs 
yielded  up  the  ghost,  disputing  and  dying  for  a  song?  No. 
A  creed,  if  true  to  its  original  end,  should  be  in  sober  prose, 
should  be  understood  as  ft  means,  and  should  mean  what  it 
says,  should  be  drawn  out  with  a  discriminating,  balancing 
judgment,  so  as  to  need  no  allowance  for  its  freedom,  no 
abatement  of  its  force,  and  should  not  be  expressed  in  an- 
tiquated terms  lest  men  regard  its  spirit  as  likewise  obsolete. 
It  belongs  to  the  province  of  the  analyzing,  comparing,  rea- 
soning intellect ;  and  if  it  leave  this  province  for  the  sake  of 
intermingling  the  phrases  of  an  impassioned  heart,  it  con- 
fuses the  soul,  it  awakens  the  fancy  and  the  feelings  to  dis- 
turb the  judgment,  it  sets  a  believer  at  variance  with  himself 
by  perplexing  his  reason  with  metaphors  andi  his  imagina- 
tion with  logic ;  it  raises  feuds  in  the  church  by  crossing  the 
temperaments  of  men,  and  taxing  one  party  to  demonstrate 
similes,  another  to  feel  inspired  by  abstractions.  Hence  the 
logomachy  which  has  always  characterized  the  defense  of 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  iii 

such  creeds.  The  intellect,  no  less  than  the  heart,  being  out 
of  its  element,  wanders  through  dry  places,  seeking  rest  and 
finding  none.  Men  are  thus  made  uneasy  with  themselves 
and  therefore  acrimonious  against  each  other;  the  imagi- 
native zealot  does  not  apprehend  the  philosophical  explana- 
tion, and  the  philosopher  does  not  sympathize  with  the 
imaginative  style  of  the  symbol ;  and  as  they  misunderstand 
each  other,  they  feel  their  weakness,  and  "to  be  weak  is 
miserable,"  and  misery  not  only  loves  but  also  makes  com- 
pany, and  thus  they  sink  their  controversy  into  a  contention 
and  their  dispute  into  a  quarrel ;  nor  will  they  ever  find 
peace  until  they  confine  their  intellect  to  its  rightful  sphere 
and  understand  it  according  to  what  it  says,  and  their  feel- 
ing to  its  province  and  interpret  its  language  according  to 
what  it  means,  rendering  unto  poetry  the  things  that  are 
designed  for  poetry,  and  unto  prose  what  belongs  to  prose. 
The  last  clause  of  our  fourth  proposition  is,  that  the  the- 
ology of  intellect  and  that  of  feeling  tend  to  keep  each  other 
within  the  sphere  in  which  they  are  fitted  to  improve  the 
character/  So  far  as  any  statement  is  hurtful,  it  parts  with 
one  sign  of  its  truth.  In  itself  or  in  its  relations  it  must  be 
inaccurate,  whenever  it  is  not  congenial  with  the  feelings 
awakened  by  the  Divine  Spirit.  The  practical  utility,  then, 
of  any  theological  representations  is  one  criterion  of  their 
propriety.  Judged  by  this  test,  many  fashionable  forms  of 
statement  will  sooner  or  later  be  condemned.  Half  of  the 
truth  is  often  a  falsehood  as  it  is  impressed  on  the  feelings ; 
not  always,  however,  for  sometimes  it  has  the  good,  the 

^  In  consequence  of  the  length  of  the   Discourse,  this  paragraph 
and  that  which  followsi  it,  were  omitted  in  the  delivery. 


112  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

right  influence,  and  is  craved  by  the  sensibilities  which  can 
bear  no  more.  The  heart  of  man  is  contracted,  therefore 
loves  individual  views,  dreads  the  labor  of  that  long-con- 
tinued expansion  which  is  needed  for  embracing  the  com- 
prehensive system.  Hence  its  individualizing  processes 
must  be  superintended  by  the  judgment  and  conscience, 
which  forbid  that  the  attention  be  absorbed  by  any  one  as- 
pect of  a  doctrine  at  the  time  when  another  aspect  would  be 
more  useful.  If  the  wrong  half  of  a  truth  be  applied  instead 
of  the  right,  or  if  either  be  mistaken  for  the  whole,  the  sen- 
sibilities are  maltreated,  and  they  endure  an  evil  of  which 
the  musician's  rude  and  unskilful  handling  of  his  harp 
gives  but  a  faint  echo.  The  soul  may  be  compared  to  a 
complicated  instrument  which  becomes  vocal  in  praise  of  its 
Maker  when  it  is  plied  with  varying  powers,  now  with  a 
gradual  and  then  with  a  sudden  contact,  here  with  a  deli- 
cate stroke  and  there  with  a  hard  assault ;  but  when  the 
rough  blow  comes  where  should  have  been  the  gentle  touch, 
the  equipoise  of  its  parts  is  destroyed,  and  the  harp  of  a  thou- 
sand strings,  all  meant  for  harmony,  wounds  the  ear  with  a 
harsh  and  grating  sound.  The  dissonance  of  pious  feeling, 
with  the  mere  generalities  of  speculation  or  with  any  mis- 
applied fragments  of  truth,  tends  to  confine  them  within 
their  appropriate,  which  is  their  useful,  sphere.  In  this  light, 
we  discern  the  necessity  of  right  feeling  as  a  guide  to  the 
right  proportions  of  faith.  Here  we  see  our  responsibility 
for  our  religious  belief.  Here  we  are  impressed  by  the  fact, 
that  much  of  our  probation  relates  to  our  mode  of  shaping 
and  coloring  the  doctrines  of  theology.    Here  also  we  learn 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  113 

the  value  of  the  Bible  in  unfolding  the  suitable  adaptations 
of  truth,  and  in  illustrating  their  utility,  which  is,  on  the 
whole,  so  decisive  a  touchstone  of  their  correctness.  When 
our  earthly  hopes  are  too  buoyant,  we  are  reminded  "that 
one  event  happeneth  to  them  all,"  and  "that  a  man  hath  no 
preeminence  above  a  beast ;"  but  such  a  repressing  part  of  a 
comprehensive  fact  is  not  suited  to  the  sensual  and  sluggish 
man  who  needs  rather,  as  he  is  directed,  to  see  his  "life  and 
immortality  brought  to  light."  When  we  are  elated  with 
pride  we  are  told  that  "man  is  a  worm ;"  but  this  abasing 
part  of  a  great  doctrine  should  not  engross  the  mind  of  him 
who  despises  his  race,  and  who  is  therefore  bidden  to  think 
of  man  as  "crowned  with  glory  and  honor."  If  tempted  to 
make  idols  of  our  friends,  we  are  met  by  the  requisition  to 
"hate  a  brother,  sister,  father  and  mother ;"  but  these  are  not 
the  most  fitting  words  for  him  who  loves  to  persecute  his 
opposers,  and  who  requires  rather  to  be  asked,  "He  that 
loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love 
God  whom  he  hath  not  seen?"  In  one  state  of  feeling  we  are 
stimulated  to  "work  out  our  own  salvation  with  fear  and 
trembling,"  but  in  a  different  state  we  are  encouraged  to  be 
neither  anxious  nor  fearful,  but  to  "rejoice  in  the  Lord  al- 
way."  I  believe  in  the  "final  perseverance"  of  all  who  have 
been  once  renewed,  for  not  only  does  the  generalizing  intel- 
lect gather  up  this  doctrine  from  an  induction  of  various  in- 
spired words,  but  the  heart  also  is  comforted  by  it  in  the 
hour  of  dismal  foreboding.  Yet  when  I  wrest  this  truth 
from  its  designed  adjustments,  and  misuse  it  in  quieting  the 
fears  of  men  who  are  instigated  to  count  "the  blood  of  the 


114  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

covenant,  wherewith  they  were  sanctified,  an  unholy  thing," 
I  am  startled  by  the  threat  that  "if  they  shall  fall  away,  it 
will  be  impossible  to  renew  them  again  unto  repentance." 
This  threat  was  not  designed,  like  the  promise  of  preserving 
grace,  to  console  the  disconsolate,  nor  was  that  promise  de- 
signed, like  this  threat,  to  alarm  the  presumptuous.  Let  not 
the  two  appeals  cross  each  other.  My  judgment,  and,  in 
some  lofty  views  in  which  I  need  to  be  held  up  by  the  Di- 
vine Spirit  lest  I  fall,  my  feelings  also  are  unsatisfied  with- 
out the  Biblical  announcement  that  "the  Lord  hardened 
Pharaoh's  heart ;"  but  at  my  incipient  inclination  to  pervert 
these  words  into  an  excuse  for  sin,  or  a  denial  of  my  entire 
freedom,  or  of  my  Maker's  justice  or  tenderness,  I  regard 
them  as  a  "form  of  sound  words"  from  which  my  depravity 
has  expelled  their  spirit,  and  I  flee  for  safety  to  the  other 
v/ords,  which  are  a  complement  to  the  first,  that  "Pharaoh 
hardened  his  own  heart."  When  even  a  Puritan  bishop  is 
inflated  with  his  vain  conceits,  it  is  perilous  for  him  to  con- 
centrate his  feelings  upon  the  keys  with  which  he  is  to  open 
or  shut  the  door  of  heaven.  Such  a  man  should  oftener 
tremble  lest  having  been  a  servant  of  servants  here,  he  be 
cast  away  hereafter.  But  with  a  melancholic  though  faith- 
ful pastor,  this  application  of  Scriptures  may  be  reversed. 
We  delight  in  the  thought,  that  he  who  hath  made  every- 
thing beautiful  in  its  season,  who  sendeth  dew  upon  the 
earth  when  it  has  been  heated  by  the  sun, — and  again,  when 
it  has  been  parched  by  drought,  sendeth  rain ;  who  draweth 
the  curtains  of  darkness  around  us  when  the  eye  is  tired  of 
the  bright  heavens,  and  irradiates  the  vision  when  the  night 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  115 

has  become  wearisome ;  who  intermingleth  calm  with  tem- 
pest and  parteth  the  clouds  of  an  April  day  for  the  passage 
of  the  sun's  rays, — hath  also  adopted  a  free,  exuberant,  re- 
freshing method  of  imparting  truth  to  the  soul ;  giving  us 
a  series  of  revelations  flexile  and  pliant,  flitting  across  the 
mental  vision  with  changeful  hues,  ever  new,  ever  appro- 
priate, not  one  of  its  words  retaining  its  entire  usefulness 
when  removed  from  its  fit  junctions,  not  one  of  them  being 
susceptible  of  a  change  for  the  better  in  the  exigency  when 
it  was  uttered,  but  each  being  "a  word  spoken  in  due  sea- 
son, how  good  is  it." 

There  is  a  kind  of  conjectural  doctrine,  which  in  the 
Swedenborgian  and  Millenarian  fancies  is  carried  to  a  ruin- 
ous excess,  but  which  within,  not  beyond  the  limit  of  its 
practical  utility  may  be  either  justified  or  excused.  Our 
feelings,  for  example,  impel  us  to  believe  that  we  are  com- 
passed about  with  some  kind  of  superior  and  ever  wakeful 
intelligence.  To  meet  this  demand  of  the  heart,  Paganism 
has  filled  the  air  with  divinities,  but  a  wiser  forecast  has  re- 
vealed to  us  the  omnipresence  of  an  all-comprehending 
mind.  Still  our  restless  desires  would  be  sometimes  grati- 
fied by  a  livelier  representation  of  the  spiritual  existence 
around  us,  and  accordingly,  in  the  more  than  paternal  com- 
passion of  Jehovah,  he  maketh  his  angels  ministering  spirits, 
sent  forth  to  attend  upon  the  heirs  of  salvation,  and  to  ani- 
mate our  spiritual  atmosphere  with  a  quick  movement.  But 
even  yet,  there  are  times  when  the  heart  of  man  would  be 
glad  of  something  more  than  even  these  cheering  revela- 
tions.    We  are  comforted  with  the  thought  that  our  de- 


ii6  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

ceased  companions  still  mingle  with  us,  and  aid  us  in  our 
struggles  to  gain  their  purity,  and  that,  after  we  have  left 
the  world  to  which  thus  far  we  have  been  so  unprofitable, 
we  shall  be  qualified  by  our  hard  discipline  here,  for  more 
effective  ministries  to  those  who  will  remain  in  this  scene 
of  toil.  Such  a  belief,  however,  is  not  one  which  the  reason, 
left  to  itself,  would  fortify  by  other  than  the  slightest  hints. 
It  is  a  belief  prompted  by  the  afifections,  and  the  indulgence 
in  it  is  allowed  by  the  intellectual  powers  no  farther  than  it 
consoles  and  enlivens  the  spirit  which  is  wearied  with  its 
earthly  strifes.  If  we  begin  to  think  more  of  friends 
who  visit  us  from  heaven  than  of  Him  who  always  abideth 
faithful  around  and  over  and  within  us,  if  we  begin  to  search 
out  witty  inventions  and  to  invoke  the  aid  of  patronizing 
saints,  if  we  imagine  that  she  who  once  kept  all  her  child's 
sayings  in  her  heart  will  now  lay  up  in  her  motherly  remem- 
brance the  Ave  Marias  of  all  who  bless  her  image,  then  we 
push  an  innocent  conjecture  into  the  sphere  of  a  harm- 
ful falsehood.  The  intellectual  theology  recognizes  our  felt 
need  of  a  tenderness  in  the  supervision  which  is  exercised 
over  us,  but  instead  of  meeting  this  necessity  by  picturing 
forth  the  love  of  one  who  after  all  may  forget  her  very  in- 
fant, it  proves  that  we  are  ever  enveloped  in  the  sympathies 
of  Him  who  will  not  give  away  to  his  saints  the  glory  of 
answering  our  feeble  prayers.  The  intellectual  theology 
does  indeed  recognize  our  felt  want  of  a  Mediator,  through 
whose  friendly  ofifices  we  may  gain  access  to  the  pure,  in- 
visible, sovereign,  strict  Lawgiver.  But  instead  of  an  un- 
earthly being  canonized  for  his  austere  virtues,  it  gives  us 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  117 

Him  who  ate  with  sinners,  who  called  around  him  fishermen 
rather  than  princes,  and  lodged  with  a  tax-gatherer  instead 
of  the  Roman  governor,  so  as  to  remind  us  that  he  is  not 
ashamed  to  call  us  brethren.  Where  men  looked  for  a 
taper,  it  gives  a  light  shining  as  the  day,  and  hides  the  stars 
by  the  effulgence  of  the  sun ;  where  they  looked  for  a  friend 
it  gives  a  Redeemer,  where  for  a  helper,  a  Saviour,  where  for 
hope,  faith.  It  takes  away  in  order  to  add  more,  thwarts  a 
desire  so  as  to  give  a  fruition.  It  not  so  much  unclothes  as 
clothes  upon,  and  swallows  up  our  wish  for  patron  saints 
in  the  brotherly  sympathies  of  Him  who  ever  liveth  to  make 
intercession  for  us. 

In  conclusion,  allow  me  to  observe,  that  in  some  aspects 
our  theme  suggests  a  melancholy,  in  others  a  cheering  train 
of  thought.    It  grieves  us  by  disclosing  the  ease  with  which 
we  may  slide  into  grave  errors.     Such  errors  have  arisen 
from  so  simple  a  cause  as  that  of  confounding  poetry  with 
prose.     Men  whose  reasoning  instinct  has  absorbed  their 
delicacy  of  taste,  have  treated  the  language  of  a  sensitive 
heart  as  if  it  were  the  guarded  and  wary  style  of  the  intel- 
lect.   Intent  on  the  sign  more  than  on  the  thing  signified, 
they  have  transubstantiated  the  living,  spiritual  truth  into 
the  very  emblems  which  were  designed  to  portray  it.     In 
/■  the  Bible  there  are  pleasing  hints  of  many  things  which 
1     were  never  designed  to  be  doctrines,  such  as  the  literal  and 
'     proper  necessity  of  the  will,  passive  and  physical  sin,  bap- 
\     tismal  regeneration,  clerical  absolution,  the  literal  imputa- 
tion of  guilt  to  the  innocent,  transubstantiation,  eternal  gen- 
eration and  procession.    In  that  graceful  volume,  these  met- 


ii8  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

aphors  bloom  as  the  flowers  of  the  field ;  there  they  toil  not 
neither  doi  they  spin.  But  the  schoolman  has  transplanted 
them  to  the  rude  exposure  of  logic ;  here  they  are  frozen  up, 
their  fragrance  is  gone,  their  juices  evaporated,  and  their 
withered  leaves  are  preserved  as  specimens  of  that  which  in 
its  rightful  place  surpassed  the  glory  of  the  wisest  sage. 
Or,  if  I  may  change  the  illustration,  I  would  say  that  these 
ideas,  as  presented  in  the  Bible,  are  like  Oriental  kings  and 
nobles,  moving  about  in  their  free,  flowing  robes,  but  in 
many  a  scholastic  system  they  are  like  the  embalmed  bodies 
of  those  ancient  lords,  their  spirits  fled,  their  eyes,  which 
once  had  speculation  in  them,  now  lack  luster ;  they  are  dry 
bones,  exceeding  dry.  Not  a  few  technical  terms  in  theol- 
ogy are  rhetorical  beauties  stiffened  into  logical  perplexi- 
ties ;  the  exquisite  growths  of  the  imagination  pressed  and 
dried  into  the  matter  of  a  syllogism  in  Barbara.  Many  who 
discard  their  literal  meaning  retain  the  words  out  of  rever- 
ence to  antique  fashions,  out  of  an  amiable  fondness  for 
keeping  the  nomenclature  of  science  unbroken,  just  as  the 
modern  astronomer  continues  to  classify  the  sweet  stars  of 
heaven  under  the  constellations  of  the  Dragon  and  the 
Great  Bear.' 
In  this  and  in  still  other  aspects  our  theme  opens  into 
,  more  cheering  views.  It  reveals  the  identity  in  the  essence 
of  many  systems  which  are  run  in  scientific  or  aesthetic 
moulds  unlike  each  other.  The  full  influence  of  it  would 
do  more  than  any  World's  Convention,  in  appeasing  the 
jealousies  of  those  good  men  who  build  their  faith  on  Jesus 

*  Note  8,   in   Appendix. 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  iig 

Christ  as  the  chief  corner-stone,  and  yet  are  induced,  by  un- 
equal measures  of    genius  and  culture,  to  give    different 
shapes  to  structures  of  the  same  material.    There  are  indeed 
kinds  of  theology  which  cannot  be  reconciled  with  each 
other.     There  is  a  life,  a  soul,  a  vitalizing  spirit  of  truth, 
which  must  never  be  relinquished  for  the  sake  of  peace  even 
with  an  angel.    There  is  (I  know  that  you  will  allow  me  to 
express  my  opinion)  a  line  of  separation  which  cannot  be 
:  crossed   between   those   systems   which   insert,   and  those 
which  omit  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  in  the  sacri- 
fice of  Jesus.    This  is  the  doctrine  which  blends  in  itself  the 
theology  of  intellect  and  that  of  feeling,  and  which  can  no 
more  be  struck  out  from  the  moral,  than  the  sun  from  the 
planetary  system.     Here  the  mind  and  the  heart,  like  jus- 
tice and  mercy,  meet  and  embrace  each  other;  and  here  is 
found  the  specific  and  ineffaceable  difference  between  the 
gospel  and  every  other  system.    But  among  those  who  ad- 
mit the  atoning  death  of  Christ  as  the  organific  principle  of 
faith,  there  are  differences,  some  of  them  more  important, 
but  many  far  less  important,  than  they  seem  to  be.     One 
man  prefers  a  theology  of  the  judgment ;  a  second,  that  of 
the  imagination ;  a  third,  that  of  the  heart ;  one  adjusts  his 
faith  to  a  lymphatic,  another  to  a  sanguine,  and  still  another 
to  a  choleric  temperament.    Yet  the  subject  matter  of  these 
heterogeneous  configurations  may  often  be  one  and  the 
same,  having  for  its  nucleus  the  same  cross,  with  the  forma- 
tive influence  of  which  all  is  safe.    Sometimes  the  intellect- 
ual divine  has  been  denounced  as  unfeeling  by  the  rude  and 
coarse  preacher,  who  in  his  turn  has  been  condemned  as 


I20  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

vulgar  or  perhaps  irreverent  by  the  intellectual  divine ;  while 
the  one  has  meant  to  insinuate  into  the  select  few  who  lis- 
tened to  him,  the  very  substance  of  the  doctrine  which  the 
other  has  stoutly  and  almost  literally  inculcated  into  the 
multitudes  by  which  he  was  throngel.  The  hard  polemic 
has  shown  us  only  his  visor  and  his  coat  of  mail,  while  be- 
neath his  iron  armor  has  been  often  cherished  a  theology  of 
the  gentle  and  humane  affections.  Dogmas  of  the  most  re- 
volting shape  have  no  sooner  been  cast  into  the  alembic  of 
a  regenerated  heart,  than  their  more  jagged  angles  have 
been  melted  away.  We  are  cheered  with  a  belief,  that  in 
the  darkest  ages  hundreds  and  thousands  of  unlettered  men 
felt  an  influence  which  they  could  not  explain,  the  influence 
of  love  attracting  to  itself  the  particles  of  truth  that  lay 
scattered  along  the  symbols  and  scholastic  forms  of  the 
Church.  The  great  mass  of  believers  have  never  embraced 
the  metaphysical  refinements  of  creeds,  useful  as  these  re- 
finements are ;  but  have  singled  out  and  fastened  upon  and 
held  firm  those  cardinal  truths,  which  the  Bible  has  lifted 
up  and  turned  over  in  so  many  different  lights,  as  to  make 
them  the  more  conspicuous  by  their  very  alternations  of 
figure  and  hue.  The  true  history  of  doctrine  is  to  be  studied 
not  in  the  technics,  but  in  the  spirit  of  the  Church.  In  un- 
numbered cases,  the  real  faith  of  Christians  has  been  purer 
than  their  written  statements  of  it.  Men,  women  and 
children  have  often  decided  aright  when  doctors  have  dis- 
agreed, and  doctors  themselves  have  often  felt  aright  when 
they  have  reasoned  amiss.  "In  my  heart,"  said  a  tearful 
German,  'T  am  a  Christian,  while  in  my  head  I  am  a  philos- 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  121 

opher."  Many  who  now  dispute  for  an  erroneous  creed 
have,  we  trust,  a  richer  belief  imbedded  in  their  inmost  love. 
There  are  discrepant  systems  of  philosophy  pervading  the 
sermons  of  different  evangelical  ministers,  but  often  the  rays 
of  light  which  escape  from  these  systems  are  so  reflected 
and  refracted,  while  passing  through  the  atmosphere  be- 
tween the  pulpit  and  the  pews,  as  to  end  in  producing  about 
the  same  image  upon  the  retina  of  every  eye.  Not  seldom 
are  the  leaders  of  sects  in  a  real  variance  when  the  people, 
who  fill  up  the  sects,  know  not  why  they  are  cut  off  from 
their  brethren,  and  the  people  may  strive  in  words  while 
they  agree  in  the  thing,  and  their  judgments  may  differ  in 
the  thing  while  their  hearts  are  at  one. 

Thus  divided  against  itself,  thus  introverting  itself,  thus 
nuiltiform  in  its  conceptions,  so  quick  to  seize  at  a  truth  as 
held  up  in  one  way,  and  spurn  at  it  as  held  up  in  another, 
so  marvelous  in  its  tact  for  decomposing  its  honest  belief, 
disowning  with  the  intellect  what  it  embraces  with  the  af- 
fections, so  much  more  versatile  in  regarding  its  merely  in- 
ward processes  than  in  directing  the  motions  of  an  equilib- 
rist, thus  endued  with  an  elastic  energy  more  than  Pro- 
tean,— thus  great  is  the  sr  j1,  for  the  immense  capabiHties  of 
which  Christ  died,  j^^'-ge-minded,  then,  and  large-hearted 
must  be  the  minister,  having  all  the  sensibility  of  a  woman 
without  becoming  womanish,  and  all  the  perspicacity  of  a 
logician  without  being  merely  logical,  having  that  philoso- 
phy which  detects  the  substantial  import  of  the  heart's 
phrases,  and  having  that  emotion  which  invests  philosophy 
with  its  proper  life, — so  wise  and  so  good  must  the  minister 


122  THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT 

be,  who  applies  to  a  soul  of  these  variegated  sensibiHties  the 
truth,  which  may  wind  itself  into  them  all,  as  through  a 
thousand  pores ;  that  truth,  which  God  himself  has  matched 
to  our  nicest  and  most  delicate  springs  of  action,  and  which^ 
so  highly  does  he  honor  our  nature,  he  has  interposed  by 
miracles  for  the  sake  of  revealing  in  his  written  Word ;  that 
Word,  which  by  its  interchange  of  styles  all  unfolding  the 
same  idea,  by  its  liberal  construction  of  forms  all  enclosing 
the  same  spirit,  prompts  us  to  argue  more  for  the  broad 
central  principles,  and  to  wrangle  less  for  the  side,  the  party 
aspects  of  truth ;  that  Word,  which  ever  pleases  in  order  to 
instruct,  and  instructs  in  such  divers  ways  in  order  to  im- 
press divers  minds,  and  by  all  means  to  save  some.  Through 
the  influence  of  such  a  Bible  upon  such  a  soul,  and  under 
the  guidance  of  Him  who  gave  the  one  and  made  the  other, 
we  do  hope  and  believe,  that  the  intellect  will  yet  be  en- 
larged so  as  to  gather  up  all  the  discordant  representations 
of  the  heart  and  employ  them  as  the  complements,  or  em- 
bellishments, or  emphases  of  the  whole  truth  ;  that  the  heart 
will  be  so  expanded  and  refined  as  to  sympathize  with  the 
most  subtle  abstractions  of  the  intellect ;  that  many  various 
forms  of  faith  will  yet  be  blended  into  a  consistent  knowl- 
edge, like  the  colors  in  a  single  ray ;  and  thus  will  be  ush- 
ered in  the  reign  of  the  Prince  of  peace,  when  the  lion  shall 
lie  down  with  the  lamb,  when  the  body  shall  no  more  hang 
as  a  weight  upon  the  soul,  and  the  soul  no  longer  wear  up- 
on its  material  framework,  when  the  fancy  shall  wait  upon 
rather  than  trifle  with  the  judgment,  and  the  judgment  shall 
not  be  called  as  now  to  restrain  the  fancy,  when  the  passions 


THEOLOGY  OF  THE  INTELLECT  123 

shall  clarify  rather  than  darken  the  reasoning  powers,  and 
the  conscience  shall  not  be  summoned  as  now  to  curb  the 
passions,  when  the  intellect  shall  believe,  not  without  the 
heart,  nor  against  the  heart,  but  with  the  heart  unto  salva- 
tion; and  the  soul,  being  one  with  itself,  shall  also  be  one 
with  all  the  saints,  in  adoring  one  Lord,  cherishing  one 
faith,  and  being  buried  in  one  baptism ;  and  when  we  who 
are  united  unto  Christ  on  earth,  he  dwelling  in  us  and  we  in 
him,  shall,  in  answer  to  his  last  prayer  for  us,  be  made  per- 
fect with  him  in  God. 


PROFESSOR  PARK  AT  50 


THE  INDEBTEDNESS  OF  THE  STATE  TO 
THE  CLERGY 


The  election  sermon  was  preached  before  His  Excellency  Geo. 
N.  Briggs,  Governor,  His  Honor  John  Reed,  Lieutenant  Governor, 
the  Honorable  Council,  and  the  Legislature  of  Massachusetts,  at 
the  Annual  Election  January  2,  1851.  The  services  were  held  in  the 
Old  South  Church,  to  which  "the  State  Government"  was  escorted 
by  the  Independent  Cadets  of  Boston.  The  "Traveler"  says  of  the 
sermon :  "We  have  carefully  read  this  sermon  and  find  it  to  be 
just  what  might  have  been  expected  from  the  well-known  ability 
of  its  author — clear,  logical  and  to  the  point." 


THE  INDEBTEDNESS  OF  THE  STATE  TO 
THE  CLERGY 

"Nozv  there  teas  found  in  it  a  poor  wise  man,  and  he  by  his  zvis- 
dom  delivered  the  city;  yet  no  man  remembered  that  same  poor  man." 
— Eccl.  9:  15. 

IN  the  kingdom  of  nature  the  greatest  effects  are  pro- 
duced by  occult  forces.  Magnetism  and  electricity  had 
been  working  out  their  mightiest  results  for  ages  before 
their  existence  was  recognized.  Gravitation  is  a  latent  pow- 
er which  worlds  obey  in  silence.  Throughout  the  sphere  of 
mind,  also,  energies  are  felt  when  not  acknowledged.  By 
the  force  of  an  idea,  one  man  will  move  a  whole  community, 
and  he  will  be  forgotten  while  his  idea  lives  on.  There  is 
a  class  of  persons  who,  in  some  States  of  our  Union,  are  de- 
barred by  law  from  all  civil  office  and  among  whom  a  rich 
man  is  a  phenomenon.  The  spirit  of  their  profession  and 
their  habits  of  thought  disincline  or  perhaps  incapacitate 
them  for  pecuniary  speculation.  They  ^re  persons  whose 
rightful  influence  comes  from  their  good  thoughts  and  good 
character.  These  are  their  wisdom,  and  by  it,  through  the 
aid  of  heaven,  they  deliver  the  State  from  many  an  evil. 
Still,  the  results  of  their  labor  are  often  delicate,  refined, ' 
and  therefore  unnoticed.  The  consequence  is,  that  no^  one 
who  limits  his  view  to  tangible  benefits  remembereth  these 
same  poor  men. 


128  THE    INDEBTEDNESS   OF   THE 

It  may  be  thought  a  singular  and  forced  process  by 
which  this  description  can  be  appHed  to  clergymen.  They 
have  often  dwelt  in  ceiled  houses ;  they  have  been  the  first 
officers  in  the  realm,  and  have  held  their  foot  on  the  neck  of 
kings.  And  as  they  have  not  been  always  poor,  neither,  by 
any  means,  have  they  been  always  wise ;  for  it  has  been 
said  by  one  who  has,  however,  overstated  the  truth,  "that 
the  surest  sign  of  the  divine  authority  of  our  religion  is, 
that  it  has  not  yet  been  exterminated  by  those  who  have 
essayed  to  preach  it."  In  lieu  of  delivering  the  State  from 
harm,  the  State  has  often  prayed  to  be  delivered  from  them ; 
and,  so  far  from  not  being  remembered,  it  is  impossible  for 
the  millions  who  have  suffered  by  them  ever  to  forget  them. 

For  the  faults  of  the  clergy  we  have  no  time  now  to 
apologize.  It  were  as  unsafe  to  condemn  them  in  a  mass 
as  to  extol  them  in  a  mass.  Their  ranks  have  included 
some  of  the  worst,  and  some  of  the  best  men  whom  the 
world  has  ever  seen.  We  may  consider  them,  however,  not 
as  they  have  uniformly  been  in  fact,  but  as  we  may  reason- 
ably expect  them  to  be ;  as  complying  with  the  tendencies 
of  their  office;  as  representatives  of  a  doctrinal  system 
which  is  better  than  they  are  themselves ;  as  faithful,  in 
some  good  measure,  to  their  professions ;  as  identifying 
their  own  history  with  much  of  the  history  of  the  gospel ; 
as  "living  epistles,"  imperfect,  indeed,  but  yet  fairly  expres- 
sive of  the  truth.  We  may  consider  them  as  they  have 
usually  appeared  among  the  various  sects  of  this  Common- 
wealth ;  and,  not  dilating  on  their  highest  usefulness  to  the 
spiritual  and  eternal  interests  of  men,  we  may  take  a  nar- 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  129 

rower  view  of  their  function,  and  in  this  grave  presence 
may  consider,  I  trust,  without  any  unfitness, 

THE  INDEBTEDNESS  OF  THE  STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY 

We  might  illustrate  this  indebtedness  by  describing  the 
effort  which  would  be  needed  for  undoing  the  good  already 
done  through  clerical  influence,  and  by  describing  the 
scenes  which  would  ensue  if  this  influence  should  now  en- 
tirely cease.  Bvit,  pursuing  a  more  direct  method,  we  may 
remark,  that 

I.  The  State  is  indebted  to  the  clergy  for  their  influ- 
ence in  promoting  the  comfort  of  the  people.  Other  things 
being  equal,  that  nation  is  the  most  secure  whose  citizens 
are  the  most  happy,  and  the  citizens  are  the  most  happy 
when  their  natural  sensibilities  have  at  once  the  freest  and 
most  healthful  play.  Hence  it  is  one  aim  of  the  Common- 
wealth to  satisfy,  where  it  wisely  can,  the  instinctive  im- 
pulses of  the  people.  It  provides  a  fit  gratification  for  the 
sense  of  honor,  the  spirit  of  liberty,  the  love  of  enter- 
prise, of  repose,  of  amusement  even.  Sometimes  it  regu- 
lates prices,  forbids  dangerous  sports,  encourages  the  fine 
arts,  increases  the  facilities  of  locomotion,  with  the  pri- 
mary intent  of  diffusing  good  cheer  which  wins  men  to 
good  citizenship.  More  than  one  government  has  been 
convulsed  with  revolutions,  merely  because  it  did  not  ap- 
pease the  appetite  of  hunger  among  the  populace.  Now, 
there  is  in  man  a  religious  sentiment,  sometimes  noiseless 
because  it  is  deep,  and  sometimes  the  deepest  when  par- 
tially repressed,  which  must  be  gratified,  or  man  becomes 


I30  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

restive,  querulous,  tumultuous,  ungovernable.     It  is  a  com- 
plex feeling,  not  always  nor  in  general  involving  a  holy  pref- 
erence, but  including  some  necessary  processes  of  our  very 
constitution.    Much  of  it  consists  in  man's  natural  tendency 
to  look  upward,  to  revere  a  power  above  him,  to  feel  his 
dependence  upon  it,  an  involuntary  thankfulness  toward 
it,  a  moral  accountability  to  it,  a  hope  of  being  rewarded  by 
it  for  virtues,  a  fear  of  being  punished  by  it  for  vices,  a 
dread  of  it  as  just,  a  complacency  in  it  as  bounteous  and 
loving.      This   religious   sentiment   will   and   m.ust   be   ex- 
pressed. Here  it  resembles,  not  the  fire  in  the  flint,  which 
is  struck  out  by  concussion,  but  the  light  of  a  lamp,  which 
is  itself  radiant.     For  one  mode  of  its  expression,  it  insists 
on  having  a  consecrated  order  of  men  who-  shall  be  an  em- 
bodiment  of  the   religious   idea.     It  demands  either  the 
priest  or  the  minister  as  an  organ  of  communication  be- 
tween earth  and  heaven, — an  organ  through  which  the  feel- 
ings of  the  people  may  be  uttered  to  God,  and  the  richest 
favors  of  God  may  be  transmitted  to  the  people.     It  is  a 
dictate  of  nature,  that  such  an  organ  be  required  by  men  for 
expressing  their  devotedness  to  a  superior  power,  because 
themselves  being  disturbed  by  the  turmoils  of  life,  they  con- 
fide so  much  the  more  in  a  selected  band  who  dwell  amid 
the  stillness  of  the  temple,  and  are  imagined  to  have  the 
spirit,  as  they  are  seen  to  have  the  marks,  of  peculiar  sanc- 
tity.   On  the  same  principle,  it  is  an  impulse  of  nature  that 
men  desire  a  special  organ  for  receiving  their  choicest  g^fts 
from  heaven ;   because,  immersed  as  men  are  in  the  cares 
of  life,  they  need  a  class  of  teachers  from  whom  they  may 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  1311 

gain  spiritual  wisdom.  They  have  a  faith  in  the  teaching 
and  example  of  those  who  devote  their  life  to  the  mysteries 
of  religion,  as  they  have  a  faith  in  the  instructions  of  pro- 
fessed mechanicians,  or  philosophers,  or  jurists.  It  is 
sometimes  asked  whether  the  ministry  be  a  divine  or  mere- 
ly human  institution.  It  is  divine  as  the  religious  sentiment 
itself.  It  is  divine  as  the  human  soul.  It  was  no  more 
devised  by  man  than  his  constitutional  instincts  were  de- 
vised by  him.  Mr.  Hume  says,'  that  priests  may  "justly 
be  regarded  as  an  invention  of  a  timorous  and  abject  super- 
stition; "  but  it  is  a  superstition  which  cannot  be  reasoned 
down,  nor  flattered  down,  nor  awed  down,  nor  sneered 
down.  It  is  no  more  timorous  than  our  very  conscience, 
no  more  abject  than  is  our  filial  afifection.  It  pervades 
the  wide  world.  Every  tribe  of  men  has  its  sacred  orders. 
They  are  in  the  pagoda,  the  mosque,  the  cathedral,  the 
meeting-house.  The  rites  of  worship  have  not  been  mul- 
tiplied by  the  gospel,  but  rather  diminished, — made  less 
instead  of  more  imposing;  yet  we  might  as  soon  find  a 
musical  people  without  professed  musicians,  and  a  sea- 
faring people  without  an  order  of  captains,  and  a  martial 
people  without  a  rank  of  head  men,  as  a  nation  who 
receives  the  gospel  and  disowns  its  Sabbaths  and  its 
teachers.  With  us,  the  alternative  is  between  the  Chris- 
tian religion  and  no  religion  at  all ;  and  therefore,  as  we 
accept  Christianity,  so  we  must  take  with  it  some  form 
of  its  ministry.  This  ministry  has  indeed  a  positive,  which 
is  of  itself    a  sure  basis,  but  this  basis  overlies  a  moral 

'  Essay  X. 


132  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF   THE 

groundwork.  The  adaptation  of  the  office  to  the  very- 
make  of  the  soul,  is  a  signature  of  its  divine  origin,  and 
is  ahke  the  cause  and  the  proof  of  its  irrepressible  influence. 
When  men  are  forcibly  deprived  of  their  religious  coun- 
sellors, they  refuse  to  be  comforted.  Hence,  the  Grego- 
ries  and  the  Innocents  have  regulated  their  government 
by  the  principle,  that  the  masses  of  men,  who  can  bear 
all  things  else,  will  never  long  endure  an  interdict  on 
their  ministers,  and  therefore  a  monarch  can  be  punished 
most  effectively  by  silencing,  on  his  account,  the  priest- 
hood in  his  kingdom.  For  his  people.',  if  shut  out  from 
their  sanctuaries,  will  be  as  uneasy  as  if  barred  from  the 
free  air,  and  sooner  or  later  will  trample  on  the  throne 
and  rush  over  it  to  the  altar,  or  else  will  persuade  their 
king  to  make  concessions,  any  concessions,  to  purchase, 
to  beg  a  resumption  of  those  soothing  offices  with  which 
the  fondest  affections  of  men,  women  and  children  are 
intertwined. 

When  in  the  gloom  of  night  death  comes  to  the  first- 
born of  a  mother,  it  is  in  her  very  nature  to  listen  for  the 
voice  of  the  man  of  God  who  may  say,  "It  is  well  with  the 
child."  To  the  mourners  who  bend  over  the  bier,  and  take 
their  farewell  of  the  friend  whom  they  are  tO'  see  no  more, 
there  is  a  meaning  which  they  must  feel,  for  they  are 
so  made  as  to  feel  it  either  for  good  or  ill,  in  the  words  of 
their  Comforter  in  heaven,  who  speaks  to  them  through  his 
anointed  servants  on  earth.  As  the  human  sensibilities  are, 
the  best  reliefs  for  the  afflicted  will  not,  even  if  they  can,  be 
enjoyed  where  there  is  no  order  of  men  distinctively  and 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  133 

divinely  set  apart  to  administer  them.  Although  the  name 
of  a  pastor  is  seldom  mentioned  by  an  historian,'  yet  the 
real  unwritten  history  of  the  race  is  not,  in  the  main,  made 
up  of  wars  and  of  diplomatic  maneuvers,  but  of  those  do- 
mestic griefs  which  the  pastor  assuages,  and  of  those  pri- 
vate joys  which  he  hallows.  He  supplies  a  want  too  pro- 
found to  be  reached  by  mere  civil  enactments,  too  deli- 
cate to  be  touched  by  armed  magistrates,  too  radical, to 
be  left  without  the  care  of  philanthropists  especially  de- 
voted to  it.  The  clergy,  then,  instead  of  being,  as  they  are 
sometimes  regarded,  mere  goads  and  stings  to  the  public 
conscience,  made  for  teasing  and  annoying  a  quiet  popula- 
tion, are  the  ministers  of  solace,  and  of  that  peace  which 
no  political  economy  can  give  or  take  away.  They  earn 
more  thanks  than  they  receive  from  the  government  for  co- 
operating with  it  in  multiplying  the  satisfactions  of  life  and 
for  insinuating  a  happy  influence  into  those  recesses  of  the 
soul,  which  are  closed  against  all  other  than  spiritual  ap- 
pliances. 

n.  The  State  is  indebted  to  the  clergy  for  their  influence 
in  educating  the  people.  Every  land  should  have  its  native 
literature,  and  especially  our  land,  which  is  overspread 
with  writings  foreign  to  us  alike  in  origin  and  spirit.  Now, 
the  religious  is  the  most  durable  part  of  our  national  litera- 
ture, and  this  should  be  in  harmony  with  the  genius  of  our 
institutions.  The  larger  portion  of  our  sacred  lore  is  in  the 

^  There  is  too  much  truth  in  the  remark  of  Dr.  Channing,  that  his- 
tory "has  not  a  place  even  in  the  margin  for  the  minister  and  the 
schoolmistress." 


134  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

products  of  the  pulpit.  If  the  sermons  preached  in  our  land 
during  a  single  year  were  all  printed,  they  would  fill  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty  million  octavo  pages.  Many  of  these  ser- 
mons are,  indeed,  specimens  of  human  weakness ;  but  the 
frailest  vase  may  hold  roots  that  will  far  outgrow  its  own 
dimensions.  The  themes  of  the  dullest  preacher  may  ger- 
minate into  a  quickening  life.  The  mind  is  so  framed  as  to 
be  stimulated  by  the  queries,  "Who  am  I?  Of  what  king- 
dom am  I  a  spiritual  citizen?  Am  I  to  live  forever?  If  so, 
in  what  realm,  in  what  condition,  with  what  companions, 
under  what  laws?  The  Judge  from  whom  there  is  no  ap- 
peal, the  Monarch  whose  sway  over  me  will  be  without 
end^ — how  can  I  gain  his  favor?"  Now,  the  church  is  the 
people's  university  for  the  study  of  such  questions.  The 
minister,  therefore,  is  a  teacher  of  science, — the  science  of 
the  human  soul,  in  which  every  cautious  man  feels  a  per- 
sonal interest, — the  science  of  that  great  Spirit  whose  at- 
tributes either  alarm  or  delight  men,  and  in,  either  case 
touch  their  deepest  sympathies.  This  is  the  science  for 
which  man  was  made,  for  which  he  was  made  inquisitive ; 
which  has  already,  more  than  any  other  object,  tasked  the 
ingenuity  of  thinkers,  and  waked  up  the  sensibilities  of  men 
otherwise  lethargic.  It  arouses  the  religious  principle ;  and 
this,  when  started,  sets  all  the  wheels  of  mental  activity  in 
motion.'     It  feels  after  the  truth,  if  haply  it  may  find  it.     It 

^  The  celebrated  infidel,  D'Alembert,  speaking  of  the  Protestant 
Reformation,  says:  "The  new  doctrines  of  the  reformers,  defended 
on  one  side  and  attacked  on  the  other  with  that  ardor  which  the 
cause  of  God,  well  or  ill  understood,  is  alone  able  to  inspire,  equally 
obliged  their  defenders  and  their  opponents  to  acquire  instruction. 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  135 

expands  the  character.    It  is  this  principle  which  made  our 
forefathers  great  and  trustworthy  men.   Many  a  pastor  has 
noticed  that  a  renewal  of  Christian  faith  is  often  combined 
with  a  renovation  of  the  intellectual  life.    And  the  minister 
teaches  not  in  the  listless  way  of  writing  books,  but  with 
the  living  voice  ;  with  those  tones  and  emphases  which,  in  an 
orator  like  our  own  Stillman,  are  themselves  almost  a  doc- 
trine;   not  with  the  voice  alone,  but  with  the  hand,  which 
opens  in  order  to  give  out  the  truth ;   with  the  eye,  which 
radiates  a  thought  unutterable  by  the  lips ;  with  the  whole 
person,  which  bodies  forth  what  is  concealed  within.^   And 
instead  of  writing  on  this  science  for  here  and  there  an 
insulated  reader,  the  minister  preaches  to  a  sympathizing 
congregation,  to  fathers  and  mothers  surrounded  by  their 
offspring  in  comely  attire.     With  this  animating  influence 
of  a  multitude  upon  each  other,  he  combines  the  influence 
of  a  consecrated  day,  when  business  is  stilled  so  as  to  make 
his  whisper  audible.     He  speaks,  too,  in  the  temple  which 
men  feel  to  be  sacred,  and  in  which  the  pulpit  is  raised  in 
dignity  above  the  pews.     All  these  incidents,  making  his 

Emulation,  animated  by  this  powerful  motive,  increased  all  kinds  of 
knowledge,  and  light,  raised  from  amidst  error  and  dissension,  was 
cast  upon  all  objects,  even  such  as  appeared  most  foreign  to  those  in 
dispute." 

'  When  John  Adams  was  informed,  in  a  letter  from  a  parish  com- 
mittee, that  the  church-pew  which  he  had  then  recently  selected  for 
himself  was,  by  means  of  an  intervening  pillar,  badly  situated  for  his 
seeing  the  preacher,  he  returned  the  following  laconic  reply:  "Faith 
cometh  by  hearing."  But  in  the  department  of  oratory,  men  hear 
with  their  eyes  as  well  as  ears.  The  full  hearing  of  the  truth  in- 
volves a  vision  of  the  man  who  expresses  it. 


136  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

hearers  the  more  susceptible,  make  his  words  the  more 
impressive.  He  preaches,  also,  not  to  those  alone  who 
can  educate  themselves,  but  to  the  masses  of  men,  who  de- 
pend on  him  for  their  moral  instruction ;  who,  being  near 
the  basis,  form,  the  support  of  the  political  system ;  who  are 
continually  sending  up  both  men  and  influences  to  invigo- 
rate the  higher  classes  of  society.  It  is  one  seal  of  the  di- 
vine wisdom  in  our  religion,  that  truth  so  disciplinary 
should  be  made  known  in  a  method  so  quickening,  to  the 
class  of  men  who  are  in  such  peculiar  need  of  being  trained 
in  this  peculiar  way.  And  here  lies  the  eloquence  in 
the  climax  of  Him  who  spake  as  never  man  spake,  and 
who  specifies,  as  the  signs  of  his  mission,  that  "the  blind 
receive  their  sight  and  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are 
cleansed,  and  the  deaf  hear,  the  dead  are  raised  up,  and" 
(more  than  all  these  physical  blessings)  "the  poor  have  the 
gospel  preached  to  them." 

It  is  not,  then,  to  any  unusual  genius  possessed  by  cler- 
gymen,— for  often  their  character  is  disfigured  by  no  such 
excrescence, — nor  tO'  any  magical  arts  which  they  practise, 
that  we  must  ascribe  the  enlivening  influence  of  their 
words ;  but  we  impute  it  to  the  adaptations  of  their  office, 
to  the  inherent  fitnesses  of  their  message,  to  the  attendant 
influences  of  Him  who  blends  his  own  power  with  the  truth 
which  he  has  revealed.  Sir  Thomas  Fowell  Buxton  says :' 
"A  man  must  preach  very  well  indeed,  before  he  conveys 
such  a  lesson  of  the  greatness  of  God,  and  the  unworthiness 
of  man,  as  a  view  of  the  heavens  discloses."    This  is  well 

^  Memoir,  p.  203. 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  137 

said ;  but  if  any  minister  has  the  soul  of  a  minister,  and  be- 
lieves the  pure  gospel,  and  feels  what  he  believes,  and 
speaks  what  he  feels,  he  preaches  very  well  indeed ;  for  the 
truths  which  he  utters  are  more  radiant  than  the  stars  of 
the  sky,  and  his  soul,  if  duly  enlarged  by  those  truths,  is 
greater  than  the  expanse  of  the  heavens,  and  the  shining 
forth  of  such  truths  from  such  a  soul  awakens  and  enlight- 
ens men  who  would  sleep  under  the  starry  heavens  without 
once  dreaming  of  their  Author.  And  the  same  noble  bar- 
onet who  has  now  been  named,  and'  who  has,  perhaps, 
achieved  as  good  a  work  for  the  imprisoned  and  the  enJ" 
slaved  as  any  man  of  the  last  century  says,'  near  the 
close  of  his  beneficent  career :  "Whatever  I  have  done  in 
my  life  for  Africa,  the  seeds  of  it  were  sown  in  my  heart  in 
Wheeler-Street  Chapel."  "It  was  much,  and  of  vast  moment, 
that  I  there  learned  from"  the  minister  of  that  sanctuary. 
And  what  and  where  is  Wheeler-Street  Chapel?  The  world 
has  never  heard  of  Wheeler-Street  Chapel,  but  the  world 
has  heard  of  Sir  Powell  Buxton ;  and  the  chain  of  the  slave 
loosens  at  the  mention  of  his  name,  and  Ethiopia  stretches 
out  her  hands  to  welcome  him  to  her  fond  embrace ;  and 
the  children  of  her  schools  which  were  founded  by  his  care, 
have  learned  his  history  by  heart,  and  will  engrave  it  on 
bracelets  of  gold  around  their  wrists.  Yet  the  eloquence 
with  which  he  instructed  the  British  senate,  the  skill  with 
which  he  gained  the  sympathies  of  his  countrymen,  and  the 
vigor  with  which  he  broke  the  bands  of  the  West  India 
slave,  he  traced  back  to  the  educating  influences  of  a  pulpit 

^  Memoir,  p.  46. 


138  THE   INDEBTEDNESS   OF   THE 

in  a  small,  weather-beaten  chapel  of  Spitalfields ;  for  from 
that  pulpit  he  learned  those  truths  that  touch  the  most  elas- 
tic springs  of  intellectual  as  well  as  moral  enterprise, — that 
are  subtle  enough  to  reach,  as  nothing  else  can,  the  hiding- 
places  of  the  conscience,  and  to  make  it  familiar  with  great 
thoughts  which  make  the  mind  great,  and  so  to  regulate 
the  association  of  ideas  that  one  may  find  "sermons  in 
stones,  books  in  running  brooks,"  and  religious  lessons  in 
the  starry  heavens  that  preach  so  well. 

The  strictly  religious  truths  of  the  Bible  must,  from  their 
intellectual  spirit,  have  an  affinity  with  all  knowledge.  He 
who  is  curious  to  learn  them  is  the  more  easily  interested  in 
everything  which  can  illustrate  them.  The  sciences  per- 
taining to  the  works  of  God,  are  involved  in  the  science 
pertaining  tO'  his  character.  Not  a  few;  mechanical  inven- 
tions, even,  have  been  made  by  clergymen.  The  world  has 
been  enriched  by  the  chemical  researches  of  Priestley ;  but 
he  indulged  himself  in  these  as  an  aid  to  his  theological, 
Vvhich  were  his  main,  studies.  Many  minds  have  been  ex- 
panded by  the  astronomical  discourses  of  Chalmers ;  but  he 
studied  the  stars  of  heaven  as  moral  lights  to  guide  him  in 
his  pilgrimage  through  this  dark  world.  Much  of  the  ethi- 
cal philosophy  now  taught  in  our  learned  schools,  is  bor- 
rowed from  the  sermons  of  Bishop  Butler,  The  sensibilities 
of  men  have  been  ennobled  by  the  architecture  of  the  cathe- 
dral ;  but  the  sublimer  principles  of  this  architecture  have 
been  discovered  by  the  priests  in  their  aim  to  image  forth 
an  inward  by  an  outward  grandeur.  The  public  taste  has 
been  refined  by  the  music  of  the  choir;   but  many  of  the 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  139 

■most  solemn  harmonies  have  been  composed  by  the  minis- 
ters of  the  altar.  It  is  the  religious  sentiment  which  has 
suggested  the  costliest  products  of  the  chisel  and  the  pen- 
cil ;  for  whatever  is  grand  or  beautiful  is  afifianced  to  re- 
ligious truth.  More  than  one  Lord  Chancellor  has  com- 
mitted to  memory  the  sermons  of  more  than  one  Dr.  Bar- 
row, merely  for  their  inevitable  words  which  come  from  a 
hearty  faith.  We  infer  the  conduct  of  men  from  their  in- 
terests, and  the  interests  of  a  clergyman  require  him  to 
disseminate  as  well  as  to  gain  intelligence.  "Because  the 
preacher  was  wise,"  says  Ecclesiastes,  "he  still  taught 
the  people  knowledge."  He  discourses  with  a  freer  and 
manlier  spirit,  when  the  minds  of  his  hearers  have  been 
raised  up  to  an  interest  in  the  lofty  discussions  pertain- 
ing to  Him  before  whom  the  mountains  flow  down.  We 
confess  with  shame  that  the  preacher  has  not  always  un- 
derstood his  interests.  He  has  often  been  afraid  to  learn, 
and  still  oftener  afraid  to  teach.  But  this  was  the  abuse, 
not  the  use,  of  his  ofhce.  In  the  darkest  ages,  how- 
ever, he  made  "the  benefit  of  the  clergy"  arise  from  an 
erudition  superior  to  that  of  most  other  men.  In  those 
cold  ages,  the  Church,  at  immense  cost  and  pains,  fondly 
preserved  the  literature  of  the  world,  even  as  the  mother 
who  lay  freezing  on  the  snow  wrapped  her  own  tat- 
tered garments  around  her  babe  which  she  warmed  and 
cherished  in  her  bosom.  There  was  darkness  in  the  world 
at  those  times,  because  the  messengers  of  heaven  forgot 
their  errand  to  preach  the  gospel.  They  deemed  the  truths 
of  religion  so  stimulating  as  to  be  dangerous  for  the  com- 


I40  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

mon  mind.  Still,  even  then  they  betrayed  the  affinities  of 
their  office :  they  were  the  jurists,  the  arithmeticians,  the 
rhetoricians  of  the  world;  they  comprehended  all  the  sci- 
ences and  even  the  arts  in  theology,  and  some  of  them 
must,  even  now,  be  regarded  as  prodigies  of  learning.  The 
best  universities  of  the  Old  World  have  been  founded  by 
clerical  influence.  Nearly  all  our  own  colleges,  as  those  at 
Waterville,  Middlebury,  Hanover,  Providence,  New  Haven, 
Princeton,  were  organized  by  ministers,  for  the  main  pur- 
pose of  disseminating  the  religious  truth  which  loves  to 
find  and  to  make  men  intelligent.  When  Boston  contained 
no  more  than  thirty  houses,  and  Massachusetts  no  more 
than  twenty-five  civilized  towns,  the  pastors  devised  the 
plan  of  Harvard  College,  with  the  primary  intent  of  mak- 
ing worthy  preachers  and  fit  hearers  of  the  truth,  which  is 
the  life  of  the  soul.  It  is  interesting  to  notice  the  degree  in 
which  divines  like  our  Mayhews  and  Chauncys  labored  to 
make  plain  the  very  rudiments  of  popular  instruction. 
And,  at  the  present  day,  no  small  part  of  the  minister's  en- 
ergy is  spent  in  aiding  the  teachers,  animating  the  pupils, 
preserving  the  order  and  inspecting  the  progress,  of  our 
common    schools.^      Without    his    genial    interest,    these 

^  Professor  Stowe,  who  has  held  an  important  official  connection 
with  the  public  schools  of  Ohio,  says :  "My  experience  has  taught 
me  to  despair  of  establishing,  with  any  permanency,  even  a  good  dis- 
trict school,  where  there  is  not  a  good  church  and  an  intelligent  min- 
istry to  watch  over  and  sustain  it."  President  Sears,  once  the  inde- 
fatigable Secretary  of  the  Massachusetts  Board  of  Education,  says : 
"The  efficient  coadjutors  which  I  have  had  the  happiness  to  find  in 
all  parts  of  the  State,  vi'hile  engaged  in  my  official  duties,  belong  to 
no  one  profession  or  class  of  men.     It  may,  however,  be  said,  with- 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  141 

schools  had  never  been,  as  they  now  are,  the  treasures  of 
our  State.  Our  clergy  and  our  schoolmasters  have  long 
been  in  communion,  so  that  one  of  our  own  native  poets 
has  said  of  our  Commonwealth,  that  she  never 

"Dreads  the  skeptic's  puny  hands, 
While  near  her  school  the  church-spire  stands, 
Nor  fears  the  blinded  bigot's  rule. 
While  near  her  church-spire  stands  a  school." 

There  are  a  thousand  other  avenues  through  which  the 
learning  of  a  clergyman,  who  is  what  he  ought  to  be,  flows 
into  the  very  hearts  of  his  people.  The  fact  that  he  is  a 
scholar  adds  a  power,  and  the  fact  that  he  is  known  to  be  a 
scholar  adds  an  authority,  to  even  his  common  words. 
From  such  a  man  as  Owen,  or  Bates,  or  Calamy,  or  Poole, 
or  Flavel,  each  of  whom  wrote  his  scholastic  folios  amid  the 
pressure  of  parochial  care,  there  went  forth, — it  could  not 
be  otherwise, — there  stole  forth  from  his  very  attitude  and 
mien  as  he  strolled  along  the  byways  of  his  parish, — there 
breathed  itself  forth  an  influence  which  raised  the  aims  and 
refined  the  thoughts  of  young  men.  Amid  the  multitude  of 
brighter  names  which  have  adorned  the  pulpit,  we  seldom 
hear  of  Robert.  Bolton,  whoi  published  five  theological 
quartos,  translated  the  whole  of  Homer,  and  commented  on 
the  whole  of  Aquinas,  and  studied  the  Fathers  as  if  he 
cared  nothing  for  his  contemporaries ;  yet  this  same  divine 
associated  with  his  contemporaries  as  if  he  cared  nothing 

out  any  injustice  to  others,  that  the  clergy,  of  every  name,  in  the 
Commonwealth,  have  been  second  to  no  other  men  in  respect  to  an 
enlightened  policy  and  energetic  action  promoting  the  education  of 
the  people." 


142  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

for  the  Fathers,  andi  in  his  daily  walks  through  the  lanes 
of  his  precinct,  he  bore  the  results  of  his  multifarious  learn- 
ing to  the  doors  of  the  humblest  peasantry.  On  one  page 
in  the  life  of  Baxter  we  read  of  his  toiling,  amid  pains  and 
faintness,  over  the  last  of  the  hundred  and  sixty-six  trea- 
tises which  he  wrote  for  the  press;  and  on  another  page  we 
read  of  him  laden  with  the  fruits  of  his  erudition,  and  dif- 
fusing the  influence  of  it  among  the  inmates  of  a  hovel  at 
Kidderminster.  It  is  told  of  an  ancient  astronomer,  that 
when  reproved  for  his  want  of  patriotism,  he  defended  him- 
self by  pleading,  "My  country  is  in  the  heavens."  But  we 
read  of  Jonathan  Edwards  writing  at  one  hour  of  the  day, 
which  he  calls  his  leisure  hour,  that  Treatise  on  the  Will 
which  David  Hume  and  Dugald  Stewart  and  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  ranked  with  the  works  of  Locke  and  Leibnitz ; 
and  at  another,  which  was  his  business  hour,  mingling  as  a 
father  with  the  untutored  Indians  of  his  neighborhood, 
preaching  once  in  a  week  to  the  Mohawks,  and  once  in  a 
week  to  the  Housatunnucks,  and  often  catechizing  their 
vagrant  children.  His  country,  too,  w^s  in  the  heavens ; 
but  it  was  pleasant  for  him  to  walk  thither  hand  in  hand 
with  the  poor  pilgrims,  who  might  otherwise  wander  far 
away  from  the  home  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

I  know  that  men  like  these  do  not  appear  every  day  and 
everywhere,  but  the  difiference  is  often  in  degree,  not  in 
kind ;  for  in  many  a  New  England  hamlet  there  is  now  a 
parsonage  where  the  gems  of  sacred  lore  are,  treasured  up, 
where  the  spirit  of  the  patriarch  is  refined  by  a  patient  and 
liberal  culture ;  but  while  the  world  is  running  out  in  search 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  143 

of  noisy  captains  who  boast  themselves  to  be  patriots,  and 
escorting  them  in  long"  processions,  ''all  the  while  sonorous 
metal"  breathing  martial  sounds,  this  man,  whose  inward 
worth  is  equal  to  his  freedom  from  outward  display,  and 
who  might  have  been  famed  in  the  senate  had  he  not 
chosen  to  minister  unto  the  necessities  of  the  saints,  is  now 
living  as  the  educator  of  a  retired  parish,  speaking  a  word 
in  season  to  herdsmen's  boys,  and  imitating  while  he  serves 
the  great  Teacher  who  said,  "Suffer  the  little  children  to 
come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not;"  but  from  the  circle  of 
hardy  youths  who  enjoy  his  counsel  there  will  come  forth 
robust  and  earnest  scholars,  who  will  invigorate  the  litera- 
ture of  their  country,  and  gather  to  themselves  the  honors 
of  the  State,  while  no  one  remembereth  the  poor  wise  man 
who  delivered  them  from  their  ignorance ;  but  he  toils  on, 
willing  to  be  obscure,  so  he  may  humbly  serve  his  genera- 
tion, and  waiting  with  a  resigned  and  pensive  spirit  for  the 
day  when  he  shall  be  borne  by  a  few  devout  men  to  his 
burial,  and  when  he  who  hath  been  faithful  over  a  few 
things  shall  be  made  ruler  over  many  things,  and'  shall  en- 
ter with  loud  acclaim  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord. 

IIL  The  State  is  indebted  to  the  clergy  for  their  influ- 
ence in  promoting  the  political  virtues.  So  gentle  and 
well-nigh  domestic  is  the  pastor's  vocation,  as  in  the  view 
of  some  to  steal  away  his  manly  energy.  Yet  the  very  men 
who  are  most  inclined  to  smile  at  what  they  term  his  ef- 
feminate manners,  are  the  most  sensitive  to  his  interference 
with  politics.  They  cannot  forgive  it  unless  it  be  what 
they  significantly  call,  "on  the  right  side."    The  reason  is. 


144  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

that  his  words,  homely  as  they  may  seem,  come  with  a 
power  pecuhar  to  his  ofBce,  and  therefore  go  down  into  the 
recesses  of  the  soul,  made  as  it  is  for  religious  appeal/ 
Hence  he  is  suspected  of  unfairness,  when  he  gives  up  to  a 
party  what  is  required  for  the  common  good.  He  should 
be  wise,  then,  in  setting  bounds  to  his  political  activity. 
He  should  be  careful  that  his  political  influence  not  only 
be,  but  also  seem  to  be,  in  behalf  of  virtue.  He  should  be 
and  appear  to  be  solicitous,  not  so  much  for  the  outward 
forms  as  for  the  moral  spirit  of  politics.  Hence  he  should 
never  be  vociferous  in  civil  affairs,  so  as  to  let  the  minister 
be  lost  sight  of  in  the  politician.  His  influence  on  those 
affairs  will  be  greater  and  better  if  he  make  them  secondary 
to  his  more  spiritual  duties.  He  loses  his  political  influence 
if  he  think  tooi  much  of  it.  He  must  never  contend  in  such 
a  way  for  the  interests  of  this  world  as  to  mar  the  felicity 
of  his  pleading  for  the  interests  of  another.  His  general 
rule  should  be,  to  make  the  Sabbath  a  day  of  rest,  and  the 
sanctuary  a  place  of  rest,  for  friends  and  foes  who  are  wea- 
ried with  their  earthly  strifes.  His  habits  and  his  sympa- 
thies disqualify  him  for  the  personal  details  of  politics. 
When  he  goes  far  beyond  the  discussion  of  principles  into  a 
mere  partisanship  for  men,^  he  is  out  of  his  sphere,  and 
that  simplicity  which  is  and  ought  to  be  his  most  amiable 

^  "Many  [State]  constitutions  exclude  the  clergy  from  voting,  be- 
cause their  influence,  always  great,  is  feared  if  they  interfere  with 
politics."    Lieber's  Political  Ethics,  Part  II.,  p.  268. 

"  There  is  an  obvious  difference  between  the  discussion  of  politi- 
cal principles  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  meddling  with  politics  on  the 
other. 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  145 

virtue,  is  the  means  of  his  being  deceived  into  wrong 
estimates  of  character.  Still  he  is  a  man,  a  citizen,  a 
teacher,  a  moral  guide,  and  as  such  he  must  utter  many 
truths  relating  to  our  civil  duties.  He  must,  for  example, 
exhort  his  hearers  to  "owe  no  man  anything,"  even  if  he 
should  be  suspected  of  looking  toward  some  laws  about 
fraudulent  bankruptcy  and  repudiation.  As  the  theology 
of  the  pulpit  is  linked  with  all  sciences,  so  is  its  religion 
with  all  virtues.  Politics  cannot  be  sealed  up  hermeti- 
cally against  moral  influence.  Like  the  air  of  heaven,  this 
influence  pervades  every  sphere  of  life.  Welcomed  or  op- 
posed it  must  be  met.^  Religion  will  either  refine  poli- 
tics, or  politics  will  contaminate  religion.  In  self-de- 
fence, therefore,  as  well  as  in  fealty  to  the  State,  the  min- 
ister pleads  for  the  duties  of  good  citizenship.  It  is  one 
divine  signature  of  his  religion,  that  the  same  virtues 
which  it  demands  without  reasoning  and  merely  as  en- 
joined by  God,  are  reasoned  out  by  the  physiologist  to  be 
promotive  of  health,  and  by  the  statesman  to  be  needed  for 
the  national  growth.  The  germs  of  political  ethics  are  thus 
in  the  Bible.  By  a  train  of  religious  sentiment,  Fenelon 
unfolded  the  essential  principles  which  Adam  Smith  after- 
wards erected  into  the  new  science  of  Political  Economy. 
In  an  indirect  way,  the  minister  is  a  politician  when  he  ex- 
plains and   enforces,   as  he   does   so  often,  the  duties  of 

^  "To  be  a  real  patriot,  a  man  must  consider  his  countrymen  as 
God's  creatures,  and  himself  as  accountable  for  his  acting  towards 
them.  If  pro  aris  et  focis  be  the  life  of  patriotism,  he  who  hath  no 
religion  and  no  home,  makes  a  suspected  patriot." — Berkeley's  Max- 
ims concerning  Patriotism. 


146  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

parents  and  children ;  for  these  duties  are  essential  to  the 
order  of  the  family ;  this  order,  as  it  represents  in  minia- 
ture, SO'  it  facilitates  the  government  of,  a  nation.  A  fam- 
ily is  the  cement  of  the  political  system ;  and  unless  it  be 
carefully  watched,  the  Commonwealth  will  not  be  peace- 
fully ruled.  But  all  history  proves  that  the  virtues  of  the 
household  will  not  be  long  preserved,  where  they  are  not 
fostered  by  those  ministers  of  the  church  who,  in  their  low- 
ly services,  are  among  the.  best  ministers  of  the  State.  At 
the  commencement  of  the  last  half  cemury,  some  islands 
of  the  sea  were  sunk  in  the  deepest  barbarism,  but  now  send 
their  ambassadors  to  the  courts  of  Europe.  A  few  preach- 
ers from  New  England  carried  to  them  the  story  of  that  re- 
markable Personage  who  came  to  be  a  model  for  the  child 
and  the  parent,  the  scholar  and  the  teacher,  the  layman 
and  the  priest,  the  fellow  citizen  and  the  judge,  the  servant 
and  the  lawgiver,  the  subject  and  the  king,  the  vanquished 
and  the  conqueror ; — and  that  story  makes  men  think  of 
political  maxims  which  it  does  not  expressly  mention,  and 
gives  men  one  link  which  draws  after  it  the  whole  chain  of 
political  virtues.^ 

One  of  these  virtues,  which  the  clergy  are  inclined  by  the 
very  genius  of  their  office  to  encourage,  is  that  of  sustaining 
the  laws  and  government  of  the  land.  A  church-going  are 
apt  to  be  a  law-abiding  people.  Their  pastor  has  a  profes- 
sional regard  for  law.  He  loves  its  moral  influence.  He 
esteems  a  good  statute  as  a  sermon  and  obedience  to  it  as 

^  The  Sandwich  Islanders  have  more  than  once  forwarded  money 
to  the  United  States,  in  aid  of  our  national  charities. 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  147 

a  preparative  for  acquiescence  in  the  divine  will.  Pie  repre- 
sents religion  as  consisting  in  this  acquiescence,  and  he 
fears  that  men  who  love  tO'  disobey  the  ruler  whom  they 
have  seen,  will  also  disobey  the  Sovereign  whom  they  have 
not  seen.  His  ofifice  is  to  prove  that  the  true  submission  to 
government  involves  a  benevolent  regard  to  the  common 
good ;  that  it  is  therefore  not  pusillanimous  but  a  noble 
virtue;  and  as  men  must  love  the  law  of  God  in  order  to 
acquiesce  in  the  gospel,  so  they  must  obey  the  laws  of  man 
in  order  to  enjoy  true  freedom. 

He  teaches,  indeed,  on  the  principles  of  natural  reason, 
that  civil  government  is  of  divine  origin;    not  merely  be- 
cause it  exists  in  the  providence  of  God,  for  sin  itself  exists 
in  the  same  providence,  without  having  God  for  its  author. 
But  civil  government  is  of  divine  origin,  because  and  so  far 
forth  as,  it  is  prompted  by  those  normal  instincts  within  us 
which  are  of  divine  workmanship.    Our  Maker  has  given  us 
a  tendency   to   revere   and   obey   magistrates.     Speaking 
through  our  constitution,  then,  he  has  ordained  them.    And 
as  government  comes  thus  from  a  divine  impulse,  so  it  has 
a  divine  right ;    not  merely  because  it  is  providentially  so 
strong  that  it  cannot  be  resisted,  and  therefore  ought  to  be 
welcomed,  for  a  pestilence  or  an  inundation  may  be  prov- 
identially irresistible  and  still  not  desirable  ;  but  government 
is  of  divine  right,  because  and  so  far  forth,  as  it  is  adapted 
to  our  natural  and  fitting  wants.  These  wants  are  from  God ; 
they  indicate  the  supply  which  is  needed  for  them ;    this 
supply  is  political  government ;    this  government,  then,  as 
it  is  suited  by  nature  to  a  demand  existing  by  nature,  must 


148  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF   THE 

be  sanctioned  by  the  Author  of  that  nature.  He  loves  to 
promote  our  welfare;  our  welfare  is  advanced  by  the  in- 
stitutions which  are  fitted  to  the  structure  of  our  minds ; 
these  beneficent  institutions,  therefore,  are  authorized  as 
well  as  originated  by  Him  who  has  incited  us  to  devise,  by 
causing  us  to  demand  them.  Thus  we  claim  a  divine  au- 
thority for  the  marriage  relation  land  for  the  family  regimen, 
because  they  are  not  only  a  result  of  sensibilities  which  God 
has  implanted  in  the  soul,  but  also  a  means  of  the  happi- 
ness and  virtue  which  he  has  made  the  end  of  our  being. 
Desiring  this  end,  he  has  required  these  means.  The  the- 
ory that  government  derives  its  claims  from  the  social  com- 
pact, is,  in  the  main,  a  fictitious  mode  of  expressing  the 
idea  that  government  is  congenial  with  our  sensibilities  and 
interests,  and  therefore  may  be  presumed  to  secure  a  prom- 
ise of  obedience  from  us,  and  hence  must  be  pleasing  to 
God,  who  chooses  that  we  observe  the  covenants  which  him- 
self has  predisposed  us  to  make.  The  theory  that  govern- 
ment demands  our  homage  on  account  of  its  venerable  and 
ancestral  associations,  resolves  itself  into  the  truth,  that  a 
reverence  for  old  systems  was  implanted  within  us  by  the 
Ancient  of  Days,  and  he  desires  that  this  graceful  sentiment 
be  cherished  in  every  form  and  degree  which  can  harmonize 
with  the  paramount  law  of  virtuous  progress.  In  fine,  the 
element  of  truth  existing  in  all  theories  of  civil  government 
is  enveloped  in  the  Christian  doctrine,  that  such  govern- 
ment has  a  divine  authority,  and  this  doctrine  is  essential  to 
the  highest  influence  of  those  theories.  There  are  masses 
of  men  who  care  little  for  abstractions.     It  has  been  said 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  149 

of  them,  they  "cannot  see,  but  they  can  feel ;'"  at  least, 
they  do  not  see  sO'  far  as  tO'  ultimate  utilities,  nor  so  far 
around  as  to  general  results.  But  they  love  or  fear  a  per- 
sonal God,  who  superadds  his  own  sanction  toi  the  threat- 
enings  of  human  law,  who  gives  a  new  sacredness  to  life  as 
connected  with  an  immortal  existence,  and  to  property  as  a 
means  of  spiritual  culture;  a  new  meaning  to  an  oath,  a 
religious  value  to  a  ballot,  a  deep  solemnity  tO'  an  office ; 
and  who  invests  the  very  forms  of  justice  with  a  distinct 
majesty.'  Not  in  an  abstract  way,  but  by  living  men,  his 
ministers,  has  the  authority  of  the  great  Lawgiver  been  as- 
sociated with  human  jurisprudence.  Hence  have  these 
ministers  been  summoned,  either  by  the  wisdom  or  con- 
science or  policy  of  rulers,  to  stand  forth  as  the  representa- 
tives of  the  divine  will  in  behalf  of  human  legislation.  They 
have  administered  the  holy  sacrament  to  the  king  as  he  has 
assumed  the  diadem.  They  have  chanted  the  Te  Deum  be- 
fore the  army  as  it  has  marched  forth  into  the  battle-field. 
In  the  dignified  simplicity  of  the  gospel  they  have  invoked 
the  aid  of  the  Most  High  on  our  legislative  councils.  They 
have,  in  various  forms,  clothed  the  polity  of  man  with  that 
honor  which  cometh  from  nothing  but  an  association  with 
the  King  of  kings.' 

^  Harrington's  Political  Aphorisms. 

"  "Many  barbarian  tribes,  as  the  Goths,  believe  their  kings  to  have 
descended  from  their  divinities  and  thus  to  be  worthy  of  especial 
reverence;  as  Homer's  heroes  were  the  reputed  issue  of  gods  or 
demigods,  and  thereby  became  the  objects  of  religious  homage."  See 
Guizot's  Hist.  European  Civilization,  p.  223. 

^  In  his  speech  (pp.  47,  48)  on  the  Girard  Will  Case,  Mr.  Webster 


150  THE   INDEBTEDNESS   OF   THE 

There  are  some  laws,  perhaps,  which,  unless  ennobled  by 
this  alliance  with  the  religion  of  the  pulpit,  would  be  re- 
garded as  too  severe  to  be  sustained.     Had  not  the  New 

says:  "At  the  meeting  of  the  first  Congress  there  was  a  doubt  in  the 
minds  of  many  about  the  propriety  of  opening  the  session  with 
prayer ;  and  the  reason  assigned  was,  as  here,  the  great  diversity  of 
opinion  and  religious  behef : — until  at  last  Mr.  Samuel  Adams,  with 
his  gray  hairs  hanging  about  his  shoulders,  and  with  an  impressive 
venerableness  now  seldom  to  be  met  with  (I  suppose,  owing  to  the 
difference  of  habits),  rose  in  that  assembly,  and  with  the  air  of  a 
perfect  Puritan,  said,  it  did  not  become  men  professing  to  be  Chris- 
tian men,  who  had  come  together  for  solemn  deliberation  in  the  hour 
of  their  extremity,  to  say  that  there  was  so  wide  a  difference  in  their 
religious  belief  that  they  could  not,  as  one  man,  bow  the  knee  in 
prayer  to  the  Almighty,  whose  advice  and  assistance  they  hoped  to 
obtain.  And  independent  as  he  was,  and  an  enemy  to  all  prelacy  as 
he  was  known  to  be,  he  moved  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dushe,  of  the  Epis- 
copal Church,  should  address  the  Throne  of  Grace  in  prayer.  And 
John  Adams,  in  his  letter  to  his  wife,  says  that  he  never  saw  a  more 
moving  spectacle.  Mr.  Dushe  read  the  Episcopal  service  of  the 
Church  of  England,  and  then,  as  if  moved  by  the  occasion,  he  broke 
out  into  extemporaneous  prayer.  And  those  men  who  were  then 
about  to  resort  to  force  to  obtain  their  rights,  were  moved  to  tears; 
and  iioods  of  tears,  he  says,  ran  down  the  cheeks  of  the  pacific 
Quakers  who  formed  part  of  that  most  interesting  assembly."— In  the 
Convention  of  1787,  which  framed  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  Dr.  Franklin  made,  and  Roger  Sherman  seconded,  the  mo- 
tion, that  "henceforth  prayers,  imploring  the  assistance  of  heaven  and 
its  blessing  on  our  deliberations,  be  held  in  this  Assembly  every 
morning."  This  motion,  however,  was  not  made  until  tlie  28th  of 
June,  when  the  Convention  had  been  more  than  four  weeks  in  session, 
and  then  "Mr.  Hamilton  and  several  others  expressed  apprehensions, 
that  however  proper  such  a  resolution  might  have  been  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Convention,  it  might,  at  this  late  day,  bring  on  it  some 
disagreeable  animadversions,  etc.  Dr.  Franklin  and  Mr.  Sherman 
answered  that  the  past  omission  of  a  duty  could  not  justify  a  further 
omission,  etc.  Mr.  Williamson  observed  that  the  true  cause  of  the 
omission  could  not  be  mistaken.  The  Convention  had  no  funds. 
Mr.   Randolph  proposed,  in  order  to  give  a  favorable  aspect  to  the 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  151 

Testament  unfolded  the  nature  of  justice  as  including  in  it- 
self the  tenderest  care  for  the  general  peace,  there  might  be 
a  reason  for  modifying  the  application  of  the  old  com- 
mand, "Whoso  sheddeth  man's  blood,  by  man  shall  his 
blood  be  shed."  The  executioner  would  be  deterred  from 
pressing  the  fatal  spring,  did  not  the  gospel,  which  wins 
our  love  by  its  mildness,  illustrate  the  benevolence  of  the 
penal  code,  framed  not  for  paining  the  guilty  so  much  as  for 
relieving  the  innocent ;  not  for  grieving  a  small  circle  of 
friends,  but  for  securing  the  comfort  and  the  virtue  of  an 
entire  nation.  Had  not  the  people  of  our  Commonwealth 
been  saved  from  a  one-sided  philanthropy  by  the  compre- 
hensive spirit  of  the  New  Testament,  which  utters  a  more 
subduing  threat  as  well  as  a  more  cheering  promise  than 
the  Old ;  had  they  not  been  taught  by  Him  who  came  to 
be  our  pattern  of  gentleness,  that  civilization  is  something 
higher  than  a  poetic  sentimentalism ;  that  true  compassion 
reaches  beyond  the  man  who  has  abused  his  race,  and 
guards  also  the  race  from  being  still  further  abused ;  that 
religion  is  the  love  of  right,  and  therefore  involves  the 
hatred  of  wrong ;  aims  to  bless  men,  and  therefore  frowns 
on  all  that  injures  them;  pities  the  sordid  temper  of  the 
criminal,  and  therefore  watches  with  the  kindlier  sympathy 
over  the  children  and  mothers,  the  timorous  and  the  frail, 

measure,  that  a  sermon  be  preached,  at  the  request  of  the  Conven- 
tion, on  the  4th  of  July,  and  thenceforward  prayers.  Dr.  Franklin 
seconded  this  motion."  It  was  not  carried,  however,  and  the  origi- 
nal motion  of  Dr.  Franklin  was  lost  by  a  very  decisive  vote.  It  is 
pleasing  to  reflect  that  this  omission  is  an  anomaly  in  our  highest  leg- 
islative proceedings.  See  Spark's  Life  of  Franklin,  Vols.  I.,  pp.  514, 
515  and  v.,  pp.  153-155;  and  Mr.  Madison's  Journal,  in  loco. 


152  THE   INDEBTEDNESS   OF   THE 

who  tremble  by  day  and  by  night  in  fear  of  that  criminal ; 
had  not  our  fathers  been  inspired  with  this  conservative 
spirit  of  Christianity,  still  permeating  our  civil  institutions, 
— we  had  not  seen,  and  the  world  had  not  admired,  the 
majestic  march  of  justice  through  our  Commonwealth  dur- 
ing the  past  year;  the  manliness  and  dignity  of  our  judges ; 
the  firm,  cautious,  and  lofty  spirit  of  our  councillors,  sus- 
taining the  law  which  is  made  so  fearful  for  the  sake  of  pre- 
venting a  sin  yet  more  sinful ;  listening  with  parental  ten- 
derness to-  every  plea  of  the  sufiferer,  but  hearkening  also 
to  the  voice  of  God  as  he  says,  through  the  instinctive  sen- 
timents of  our  race,  that  the  penalty  which  men  are  so 
framed  as  to  dread  most  of  all,  the  last  of  all,  is  the  fit  dis- 
suasive from  that  last  and  most  appalling  of  crimes,  which 
hardens  the  heart  against  all  gentler  motives/ 

Clergymen  have  been  accused,  some  of  them  justly,  but 
others  unjustly,  of  pressing  the  claims  of  government  too 
far,  and  of  degrading  themselves  into  the  mere  parasites  of 
the  men  who  happen  to  be  in  power."  The  more  trust- 
worthy divines,  however,  have  not  been  content  with  ad- 
vocating the  virtue  of  allegiance ;  they  have  enjoined  a  sec- 

^  Allusion  is  here  made  to  the  execution  of  Professor  John  W. 
Webster,  August  30,  1850,  for  the  murder  of  Dr.  George  Parkman; 
and  to  the  steadfastness  with  which  all  efforts  for  the  pardon  of 
Prof.  Webster  were  resisted  by  the  government. 

^  Mr.  Hume  says,  Essay  IX.,  in  language  altogether  too  unguarded : 
"All  princes  that  have  aimed  at  despotic  power,  have  known  of  what 
importance  it  was  to  gain  the  established  clergy;  as  the  clergy,  on 
their  part,  have  shown  a  great  facility  in  entering  into  the  views  of 
such  princes.  Gustavus  Vasa  was,  perhaps,  the  only  ambitious 
monarch  that  ever  depressed  the  Church  at  the  same  time  that  he  dis- 
couraged liberty.     But  the  exorbitant  power  of  the  bishops  in  Swe- 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  153 

ond  duty, — that  of  ameliorating  the  lazvs  and  government  of 
the  land.  They  have  recommended  this  duty  in  various 
ways  and  widely  different  degrees. 

Breathing  the  spirit  of  his  office,  a  clergyman  is  reluctant 
to  think  ill  of  civil  enactments,  for  they  need  to  be  revered. 
Still  he  has  often  aided  in  correcting,  when  he  has  not  seen, 
their  faults.  His  teachings  have  been  more  useful  than 
his  observation  has  been  exact.  When  advocating  an  in- 
jurious law,  he  has  enforced  principles  which  resulted  in 
amending  it. 

And  when  his  charity  which  thinketh  no  evil  has  been 
compelled  to  recognize  the  maladministration  of  lawgivers, 
he  has  been  slow  to  condemn  them  in  his  public  speech  ; 
for  it  is  written,  "Thou  shalt  not  speak  evil  of  the  ruler  of 
thy  people."^  Still,  without  reproaching  he  has  often  bene- 
fited them,  for  he  has  unfolded  a  system  of  divine  legislation 
which  in  its  gradual  working  assimilates  the  government 
of  earth  tO'  that  of  heaven.  Immoral  codes  have  sometimes 
been  submitted  to  him  for  revision,  as  when  the  laws  of  the 
Visigoths  were  humanized  by  the  Councils  of  Toledo. 

But  when  the  malfeasance  of  rulers  passes  a  certain  line, 
he  cannot  but  speak  out.     He  dreads  the  influence  of  cor- 

den,  who  at  that  time  overtopped  the  crown  itself,  together  with  their 
attachment  to  a  foreign  family,  was  the  reason  of  his  embracing  such 
an  unusual  system  of  politics." 

'  Much  is  said,  and  wisely,  at  the  present  day,  against  disobedience 
to  rulers.  But  the  spirit  of  unrighteous  disobedience  to  them  is 
fostered  by  the  practice  of  unwarranted  slander  against  them.  A 
faithful  preacher  dissuades  men  from  "speaking  evil  of  dignities," 
as  well  as  from  refusing  subjection  to  them;  and  when  the  disposi- 
tion is  so  rife,  as  in  our  land,  to  calumniate  the  civil  authorities,  we 


154  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF   THE 

rupt  magistrates  as  preachers  of  heresy,  as  men  who'  will 
nullify  the  laws  which  he  is  commissioned  to  proclaim. 
Therefore,  if  he  live  under  a  government  susceptible  of 
peaceful  changes,  he  is  required  to  plead  for  a  reform  of 
statutes  that  miseducate  the  soul,  benumb  the  conscience, 
deaden  the  sentiment  of  pity  or  honor  or  generosity,  and 
weaken  the  very  basis  of  government  by  vitiating  the  moral 
principles  on  which  every  good  government  rests.  It  is 
sometimes  said,  that  "it  is  immaterial  what  civil  polity  we 
have,  provided  that  the  people  are  honest  and  intelligent ;" 
but  unless  we  have  the  right  polity,  there  is  danger  that 
the  people  will  never  be  honest  and  intelligent. 

Still,  the  true  pastor  is  far  from  sanctioning  the  rule  that 
every  injurious  statute  be  of  course  disobeyed;  for  it  may 
be  so  compacted  with  beneficent  laws  that  they  will  stand  or 
fall  with  it,  and  the  one  unsightly  stone  of  an  arch  must  not 
be  pried  out  from  the  other  stones  which  depend  upon  it  for 
their  form  and  pressure.  Neither  does  he  sustain  the  rule 
that  every  government,  corrupt  on  the  whole,  be  disobeyed ; 
for  often  he  has  reason  to  believe  that  it  would  be  made 
only  the  more  corrupt  by  being  opposed,  and  even  if  over- 
thrown, would  give  place  to  a  new  structure  built  of  the 
same  materials  in  a  worse  form.  Bad  laws  and  bad  rulers 
are  frequently  less  bad  than  any  which  would  be  at  once 
substituted  for  them ;  and  while  they  cannot  claim  obedi- 

must  expect  the  consequent  disposition  to  resist  them.  The  fact 
that  our  rulers  may  not  belong  to  our  own  party,  is  no  excuse  for  the 
desire  or  the  practice  of  saying  more  against  them  than  the  welfare 
of  the  State  obviously  and  urgently  demands.  The  careless  or  un- 
necessary disparagement  of  them  is  one  of  the  worst  species  of  de- 
traction, and  has  in  all  ages  been  condemned  by  the  pulpit. 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  155 

ence  for  their  own  merits,  we  may  be  required  to  yield  obe- 
dience for  our  own  usefulness.  We  only  confuse  ourselves 
when  we  imagine  that  obedience  to  a  wrong  law  must  nec- 
essarily be,  or  always  is  in  itself  sinful.  Although  a  govern- 
ment has  no  right  to  command  when  we  have  no  right  to 
obey,  yet  we  are  often  under  obligation  to  obey  mandates 
which  the  government  ought  not  to  have  imposed.  For 
resistance  to  these  mandates  may  not  always  be  necessary 
in  order  to  avoid  sin,  and  it  may  moreover  be  useless,  and  if 
useless  it  is  hurtful,  and  if  hurtful  it  is  offensive  to  our  best 
Friend,  for  he  forbids  us  to  waste  our  probation  in  efforts 
which  threaten  evil  when  they  do  not  promise  good,  and  he 
often  gives  a  divine  right  to  obedience  when  he  gives  none 
to  the  government  obeyed.  It  is  true,  however,  singular  as 
it  may  seem,  that  the  interests  of  men  coincide  so  far  with 
their  duty  as  to  make  the  larger  part  of  human  statutes 
coincident  with  the  law  of  God,  and  to  make  them,  there- 
fore, his  laws.  In  agreement  with  these  principles,  the 
preacher  has  insisted  on  the  general  rule,  that  men  obey  the 
law  of  the  land;  not  merely  that  they  obey,  if  they  deem 
the-  law  expedient,  but  that  they  obey ;  not  merely  if  they 
approve  it,  but  that  they  approve  of  obedience  to  it;  not 
that  they  make  the  wisdom  of  a  particular  statute  the 
condition  of  their  compliance  with  it,  but  that  they 
believe  in  the  wisdom  of  their  compliance  with  it  so 
long  as  it  is  a  statute.  The  general  rule  of  the  "wise 
man"  is  to  reverence  law  because  it  is  good,  or  else  to 
obey  it  because  it  is  law;  and  in  such  a  land  as  our 
own,  where  the  legislation  is  founded  on  Christian  prin- 


156  THE   INDEBTEDNESS   OF   THE 

ciples,  we  must  presume  a  statute  to  be  right,  unless 
we  have  palpable  evidence  that  it  is  wrong.  And  even 
when  there  is  such  evidence,  the  act  which  the  law  requires 
of  us  may  not  be  wrong  like  the  law  which  requires  it. 
This  act  may;  be  unfortunately  so  complicated  with  the  af- 
fairs of  a  useful  government,  that,  although  it  may  be  in- 
jurious to  a  few  individuals,  yet  the  omission  of  it  may 
compromit  the  safety  of  the  government,  and  may  thus 
be  still  more  injurious  to  a  larger  number  of  individuals. 
This  is  an  outward  act,  and  although  the  same  moral 
choice  must  be  either  good  or  bad,  ever  the  same,  yet 
many  an  external  deed  may  vary  in  its  character,  become 
right  here  and  now,  although  it  was  wrong  there  and  then. 
If  not  commanded,  it  would  be  unfit  and  hurtful,  but  when 
it  is  commanded,  it  may  be  less  unfit  and  less  hurtful  than 
would  be  the  disobedience  to  the  statute.  It  is  a  principle 
of  mere  fanaticism,  that  if  an  external  deed  is  proper  in 
one  relation,  therefore  it  may  be  performed  in  all  relations ; 
and  if  improper  in  some  circumstances,  therefore  it  must 
be  performed  in  no  circumstances,  even  "though  the  heav- 
ens fall.'" 

But  the  human  mind  is  Hke  a  pendulum  swinging  from 
one  extreme  to  the  other,  and  reaching  that  other  because 
it  had  been  first  at  the  one.  It  is  an  extreme  view,  and 
therefore  a  dangerous  view  (because  an  ultraism  on  one  side 
repels  into  an  ultraism  on  the  other,  and  it  is  hostile  to  the 
genius  of  the  gospel,  and  of  its  true  ministers,  to  advocate 

^The  well-known  proverbs  are  "Fiat  justitia;  mat  coelum,"  and 
"Fiat  justitia  et  pereat  mundus." 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  157 

any,  and  of  course  this,  extravagance),  that  the  general  rule 
of  conformity  to  human  law  will  never  allow  an  exception/ 
There  is  a  certain  line  beyond  which  the  minister  who  rep- 
resents the  gospel  cannot,  and  for  the  good  of  the  State 
should  not  pass,  in  defending  the  active  compliance  with 
law.     He  has  long  insisted  on  the  distinction  between  ac- 

'  It  is  one  characteristic  of  a  "wise  man,"  that  he  knows  when  and 
where  to  make  exceptions  to  a  general  rule.  By  forcing  the  rule  of 
obedience  so  far  as  to  shut  out  the  rightfulness  of  any  exception  what- 
ever, we  prejudice  men  against  the  rule;  while,  on  the  contrary,  by 
making  exceptions  too  easy  and  too  numerous,  and  by  undervaluing 
the  strong  antecedent  presumptions  in  favor  of  the  existing  law,  we 
drive  men  into  the  opposite  extreme  of  denying  the  rightfulness  of 
any  exception  whatever.  "If  there  be  a  danger  on  the  one  hand," 
says  Dr.  Campbell,  "of  tying  the  knot  of  allegiance  which  binds  the 
subject  to  the  sovereign  too  hard,  there  is  no  less  danger  on  the  other 
of  making  it  too  loose."  Many  clergymen  of  England,  receiving  too 
much  aid  from  Usher,  Sanderson,  Ken,  South  and  Berkeley,  have 
contended  that  the  general  rule  of  obedience  is  also  a  universal  one. 
Some  of  these  divines  have,  as  Mr.  Macaulay  says,  "delighted  to 
exhibit  the  doctrines  of  non-resistance  in  a  form  so  exaggerated  as 
to  shock  common  sense  and  humanity."  But  nearly  all  the  British 
divines  on  whose  judgment  our  countrymen  are  most  apt  to  rely, 
have  sustained  the  old  doctrine  of  the  Church  Fathers,  that  the  gen- 
eral rule  of  obedience  is  to  be  urged  strenuously,  but  still  not  so 
blindly  as  to  exclude  all  exceptions.  This  has  been  the  doctrine  of 
Jewell,  Hooker,  Bilson,  Bedell,  Burnet,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Chilling- 
with,  Hoadley,  King,  Conybeare,  Paley; — of  nearly  all  the  dissent- 
ing, and  also  the  Scottish  theologians.  It  has  also  been  the  doctrine  of 
standard  jurists.  "Upon  these  two  foundations,  the  law  of  nature 
and  the  law  of  revelation,  depend  all  human  laws ;  for  being  coeval 
with  mankind,  and  dictated  by  God  himself,  they  are  of  course  su- 
perior in  obligation  to  any  other,  and  are  binding  all  over  the  globe, 
in  all  countries  and  all  times ;  no  human  laws,  therefore,  are  of  any 
validity  if  contrary  to  these;  and  such  of  them  as  are  valid  derive 
all  their  force  and  all  their  authority,  mediately  or  immediately,  from 
this  original." — Law  Grammar,  Chap.  II.  Sect.  3. 


158  THE   INDEBTEDNESS    OF   THE 

tive  and  passive  obedience,  and  between  disobedience  to 
the  perceptive  part  of  law  and  resistance  to  the  retrib- 
utive part  of  it/  While  he  has  dissuaded  men  from  re- 
belling against  an  unworthy  statute,  he  has,  in  some  rare 
instances,  counselled  their  quietly  submitting  to  its  sanc- 
tions as  a  less  serious  evil  than  their  performing  its  requi- 
sitions. The  wise  preacher  has  given  this  counsel  when,  and 
only  when,  the  statute  has  required  citizens  toi  violate  the 
clear  decisions  of  a  well-trained  conscience  and  the  plain  will 
of  God ;  the  clear  decisions  of  conscience,  for  this  faculty 
leads  us  to  infer  that  if  there  be  any  doubt,  the  govern- 
ment is  ordained  of  heaven  to  have  the  benefit  of  that 
doubt ;  the  decisions  of  a  zucll-trained  conscience,  for  this  is 
a  faculty  Which  decides  aright  only  when  treated  aright, 
when  carefully  enlightened,  when  free  from  the  sinister  in- 
fluence of  passion,  when  combined  with  an  earnest  desire 
and  all  possible  efforts  to  learn  the  good  way ;  the  plain  will 
of  God,  for  he  wills  us  to  act  on  the  presumption  that  human 
laws  are  just,  and  that  they  are  his  ordinances,  unless  it  be 
obvious  that  they  violate  other  ordinances  which  are  more 
obviously  and  imperatively  his.  Men  who  seek  to  be  in- 
structed by  him  will  be  guided  into  a  knowledge  of  his  stat- 
utes, and  will  cleave  to  them,  whether  they  do  or  do  not 
sanction  the  statutes  of  men.  Such  is  the  consistent  pas- 
tor's faith  in  the  divine  providence,  that  he  believes  it  salu- 
tary^  as  well  as  proper,  to  illustrate  the  wrongfulness  of  an 
evidently  immoral  and  demoralizing  law  by  a  specimen  of 
its  grievous  results,  and  he  doubts  not  that  a  prudent  leg- 

'  AHud  est  non  parere  quam  resistere. — Beza. 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  159 

islature  will  reform  such  an  enactment  rather  than  multiply 
fines  and  pains  upon  the  very  men  whose  moral  principles 
are  at  once  the  richest  treasure  and  the  best  preservative  of 
the  State,  and  who  honor  the  law  in  general  by  patiently  en- 
during the  penalties  which  ought  never  to  have  been 
threatened.  The  divine  has  aimed  to  be,  and  has  been,  a 
patriot  in  allowing  no  expectation  that  he  would  advocate 
a  policy  which  must  displease  the  Author  of  all  national 
blessings,  and  must  undermine  the  prosperity  by  impairing 
the  virtue  of  the  people.  His  hope  has  been  to  raise  the 
tone  of  morals  both  in  the  high  and  low  places  of  the  land, 
by  teaching  that  we  are  subjects  of  Jehovah  before,  and 
while,  and  after  we  are  under  the  dominion  of  men,  and 
therefore  the  plain  laws  of  heaven  bind  us  more  thoroughly 
and  deeply  than  any  enactments  which  may  contravene 
them ;  for  they  bind  us  in  the  motive  as  well  as  in  the  deed, 
by  a  regard  for  the  soul  as  well  as  the  body,  for  time,  and 
forever.  When  the  prophets  and  apostles  chose,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  hfe  and  hberty,  to  obey  God  rather  than  man; 
when  the  martyrs  of  the  ancient  Church  welcomed  their 
pains  as  a  reward  for  not  abandoning  their  rights  of  wor- 
ship ;  when  the  Reformers  of  Germany,  the  Huguenot 
clergy  of  France,  the  Covenanting  divines  of  Scotland,  the 
Protestant  bishops  and  Puritan  ministers  of  England,  took 
joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their  goods  as  a  recompense  for  not 
transgressing  the  decisive  mandates  of  heaven,  and  not 
yielding  a  principle  which  they  knew,  and  we  all  know, 
that  God  required  them  to  maintain, — they  were  not  rebels 
nor  revolutionists ;   they  did  not  love  their  country  less  as 


i6o  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

it  was,  but  more  as  through  their  example  it  was  to  be ; 
they  offered  their  treasure  and  their  blood  as  a  sacrifice,  not 
for  their  own  land  alone,  but  also  for  the  world,  in  their 
time  and  in  all  time.  And  we,  above  all  men,  see  and  feel 
the  results  of  their  patriotism ;  and  if  we,  who  are  free-born 
through  their  influence,  are  ready  to  charge  the  noble  army 
of  martyrs,  whose  very  names  are  hallowed  by  our  prayers, 
with  sedition  and  treason  and  insurrection,  then  we  are 
ready  to  exhume  their  bones  and  scatter  their  ashes  to  the 
winds. 

If  a  deputy  should  enjoin  what  was  not  permitted  by  the 
magistrate  who  deputed  him,  or  if  a  m.agistrate  should  or- 
der what  was  not  allowed  by  the  province  which  appointed 
him,  or  if  that  province  should  command  what  the  national 
government  had  forbidden,  or  if  the  national  government 
should  enact  what  the  Constitution  had  prohibited,  or  if  the 
Constitution  should  require  what  is  expressly  interdicted 
by  Jehovah,  in  every  such  case  of  conflicting  laws,  the  true 
interests  of  a  State  forbid  that  the  higher  injunctions  be 
contravened  for  the  sake  of  compliance  with  the  lower.^ 
The  general  truth  is  that  the  higher  sustain  the  lower,  and 
the  command  of  obedience  to  the  lower  presupposes  that 
they  will  demand  no  transgression  of  the  higher ;  and  when 
this  supposition  fails,  the  maxim  of  Ben  Sirach  is  to  be  ap- 

^  "A  constable  may  a  thousand  times  more  excusably  pretend 
authority  against  the  king,  or  independent  of  him,  than  a  king  can 
claim  authority  against  God,  or  independent  of  him." — Richard  Bax- 
tei-'s  Holy  Commonwealth.  "Obedience  to  man's  laws  is  not  neces- 
sary, when  the  matter  is  forbidden  us  by  God's  laws,  or  when  they 
are  laws  without  power,  that  is,  such  as  men  have  no  authority  to 
make." — Baxter's  End  of  Controversy,  p.  286. 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  i6i 

plied,  "Let  not  the  reverence  for  any  man  cause  thee  to 
sin."  The  Christian  divine  urges  upon  citizens  the  apostol- 
ic rule,  "Submit  yourselves  tO'  every  ordinance  of  man  for 
the  Lord's  sake."  So  he  urges  upon  children  the  rule, 
"Obey  your  parents  in  all  things."  So  he  urges  upon  serv- 
ants the  rule,  "Obey  in  all  things  your  masters."^  In  the 
same  revealed  sentence  which  contains  the  injunction  to 
obey  magistrates,  is  another  injunction  to  "speak  evil  of  no 
man."  But  the  wise  preacher  saves  his  hearers  from  fa- 
naticism by  proving,  that  many  inspired  mandates  are 
expressed  in  general  terms,  so  as  to  devolve  on  man  the 
duty  of  affixing  the  requisite  limitations.  They  often  exact 
a  service  in  unqualified  language,  so  that  they  may  exercise 
and  improve  the  moral  judgment  of  man  in  defining  the  ex- 
tent of  the  service.  He  who  aims  to  guide  himself  by  the 
general  spirit  of  Christianity,  will  receive  wisdom  enough 

'  "Yet  I  believe  no  Christian  will  urge,  that  there  would  be  an  ob- 
ligation to  obedience  from  this  precept,  should  a  parent  command 
his  child,  or  a  master  command  his  servant  to  steal."  "Onr  Lord 
has  given  us  this  express  prohibition,  Resist  not  evil,  and  that  with- 
out any  restriction  whatever.  Yet  if  this  were  to  be  understood  by- 
Christians  as  admitting  no  exception,  it  would,  among  them,  abolish 
m.agistracy  itself.  For  what  is  magistracy  but,  if  I  may  be  allowed 
the  expression,  a  bulwark  erected  for  the  defence  of  the  society,  and 
consequently  for  the  purpose  of  resisting  evil?"  These  remarks  are 
from  a  sermon  of  Dr.  George  Campbell,  "preached  at  Aberdeen,  Dec. 
12,  1776,  being  the  Fast  Day  appointed  by  the  King  on  account  of  the 
Rebellion  in  America."  This  celebrated  critic  stigmatizes  the  "ring- 
leaders of  the  American  Revolt,  the  members  of  their  Congress,"  as 
inconsiderate  and  dishonest  men,  deserving  both  pity  and  blame ;  but 
still  contends  "that  no  man  is  bound  to  yield  an  active  obedience  to 
a  human  law,  which,  either  from  the  light  of  nature  or  from  revela- 
tion, he  is  persuaded  to  be  contrary  to  the  divine  law."  See  Camp- 
bell's Dissertation,  Sermons  and  Tracts,  Vol.  II.,  pp.  136-154. 


i62  THE   INDEBTEDNESS   OF   THE 

to  modify  the  commands  which  are  not  designed  for  being 
pressed  to  the  letter.    A  consistent  theologian,  beheving  in 
the   divine   right   of  rulers,   cannot   believe   in  their  right 
"divine  of  doing  wrong."    They  forfeit  their  heavenly  claim 
so  far  forth  as  they  plainly  transgress  the  will  of  heaven. 
"The  powers  that  be  are  ordained  of  God,"  says  the  first 
preacher  to  the  Gentiles,  "/or  rulers  are  not  a  terror  to 
good  works,  but  to  the  evil."     Not  in  all  particulars,  then, 
but  in  those  particulars  in  which  these  powers  become  a  ter- 
ror, not  to  evil  works,  but  to  good,  the  reason  for  the  divin- 
ity of  their  government  fails.     They  have  a  divine  right 
when  they  do  no  wrong,  but  have  no  right  at  all  to  require 
a  sinful  compliance.     The  heavenly  signet  of  their  office 
bears  the  inscription,  "for  [the  ruler]  is  the  minister  of  God 
to  thee  for  good,"  for  he  is  "a  revenger  to  execute  wrath 
upon  him  that  doeth  evil.   Wherefore  ye  must  needs  be  sub- 
ject, not  only  for  wrath,  but  also  for  conscience  sake."    But 
this  ruler  loses  his  divine  signet  and  the  divinity  of  his  of- 
fice, not  in  all  respects,  but  to  the  extent  in  which  he  be- 
comes the  minister  of  evil  instead  of  good ;   and  in  which 
men  cannot  obey,  either  for  conscience'  sake,  because  an 
enlightened  conscience  requires  them  to  obey  an  opposite 
command  of  heaven ;  or  for  wrath's  sake,  because  they  will 
endure  a  sorer  punishment  for  disobeying  God  in  compli- 
ance with  a  human  law,  than  for  obeying  him  in  opposition 
to  it. 

But  there  is  another  line,  still  more  remote  and  still  more 
fearful,  where  the  wise  minister  ceases  tO'  recommend  even 
passive  obedience,  and  advocates  a  forcible  opposition  to 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  163 

the  government  which  has  abused  its  trust.  In  these  ex- 
treme cases,  when  forcible  resistance  is  a  smaller  evil  than 
the  tyranny  otherwise  endured ;  when  it  is  the  necessary 
and  the  only  means  of  avoiding  an  oppression  too  grievous 
to  be  borne ;  when  it,  and  it  alone,  promises  to  be  success- 
ful in  securing  the  rights  of  the  citizen,  whenever  submis- 
sion to'  tyrants  is  evidently  treason  against  God, — then  the 
representative  of  the  gospel  has  served  the  State  by  encour- 
aging its  patriots  in  a  revolution.  If  the  stone  should  cry 
out  of  the  wall  and  the  beam  out  of  the  timber  should  an- 
swer it,  they  would  tell  of  many  a  Sabbath  appeal  with  which 
this  sanctuary^  once  resounded  in  favor  of  our  fathers 
struggling  to  escape  from  bondage.  On  the  sixth  of  De- 
cember, seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-four,  our  Pro- 
vincial Congress  addressed  a  circular  letter  to  every  clergy- 
man in  the  colony,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  the  influence 
of  his  office  against  the  encroachments  of  the  royal  power." 

^  Old   South  Meeting-house. 

"  The  following  is  the  letter,  as  found  in  Dr.  Gordon's  History  of 
the  American  Revolution,  Vol.  I.  pp.  417,  418:  "Rev.  Sir, — We  can- 
not but  acknowledge  the  goodness  of  Heaven,  in  constantly  supply- 
ing us  with  preachers  Ovf  the  gospel,  whose  concern  has  been  the  tem- 
poral and  spiritual  happiness  of  this  people.  In  a  day  like  this,  when 
all  the  friends  of  civil  and  religious  liberty  are  exerting  themselves 
to  deliver  this  country  from  its  present  calamities,  we  cannot  but 
place  great  hopes  in  an  order  of  men  who  have  ever  distinguished 
themselves  in  their  country's  cause;  and  do  therefore  recommend  to 
the  ministers  of  the  gospel,  in  the  several  towns  and  other  places  in 
this  colony,  that  they  assist  11s  in  avoiding  that  dreadful  slavery  with 
which  we  are  now  threatened."  It  was  natural  that  the  people  who 
had  long  revered  John  Cotton  and  Thomas  Hooker,  as  fathers  to  the 
State  as  well  as  the  Church,  should  in  the  times  of  the  Revolution 
look  up  to  the  clergy  as  not  only  spiritual  but  also  political  advisers. 


i64  THE   INDEBTEDNESS   OF   THE 

Our  Revolutionary  generals  often  entreated  the  minister's 
aid.  He  welcomed  the  rising  army,  blessed  them  as  they 
girded  on  their  weapons  of  defence,  emboldened  them  with 
the  thought,  which  always  stirs  the  soul  like  a  trumpet,  that 
they  were  in  a  religious  war,  and  fought,  like  the  Jews  of 
old,  for  their  altars,  and  the  God  of  the  armies  of  Israel 
would  go  before  them  in  a  pillar  of  cloud  by  day  and  of  fire 
by  night ;  and  it  is  rational  to  suppose  that  if  the  frequent 
prayer  of  the  sanctuary  had  not  been  sent  up  to  heaven  in 
behalf  of  our  forlorn  troops,  they  had  fainted  under  the  pro- 
longed severity  of  their  contest. 

But  the  solemn  question  arises.  Who  jshall  judge  wheth- 
er a  law  be  so  extremely  injurious  as  to  be  fitly  unobeyed  in 
its  precept,  or  even  resisted  in  its  sanctions?  Whoi  shall 
determine  when  a  statute  has  passed  that  line  of  abuse  be- 
yond which  it  cannot  be  complied  with,  safely  and  rightly? 
This  inquiry  has  various  meanings.  Is  it  asked  whether 
every  citizen  may  examine  the  merits  of  a  law?  A  State — 
above  all,  a  Republic — is  a  school  for  this  invigorating 
study.  Is  it  inquired  whether  every  citizen  may  judge  of  a 
law,  as  if  he  were  nO'  less  competent  to  do  so  than  the  civil 
authorities?  He  should  feel  an  habitual  deference  toward 
them ;  the  pulpit  admonishes  him  to  be  modest  and  rever- 
ent ;  but  in  deciding  to  obey  them  against  his  previous 
judgment,  he  does  and  must  decide  for  himself.  Is  it  asked 
whether  every  citizen  may  pronounce  sentence  against  a  law. 

The  influence  of  such  divines  as  Mayhew,  Cooper  and  Witherspoon, 
of  the  Election  preachers  of  Massachusetts,  is  noticed  in  Gordon's 
History,  Vol.  I.  pp.  418-420;  Grahame's  Colonial  History,  Vol.  H. 
pp.  394,  412,  419,  445,  463. 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  165 

without  consulting  the  wise  and  good  of  the  past  or  pres- 
ent times?  He  should  humbly  reverence  their  decision,  but 
in  yielding  to  it  and  obeying  the  law  on  account  of  it  and 
against  his  previous  judgment,  he  does  and  must  decide  for 
himself.  Is  it  asked,  whether  a  citizen  may  disobey  any  law 
without  solemn  and  pious  meditation?  He  must  take  a  large 
and  broad  view  of  disobedience  in  all  its  extended  results, 
many  of  them  so  disastrous,  and  he  is  a  rash  man  if  he  dare 
to  disobey  until  he  has  learned  wisdom  from  communing 
with  the  great  Ruler.  Shall  a  man  judge  hastily?  No. 
Shall  he  judge  in  a  passion?  No.  Shall  he  follow  a  per- 
verted conscience?  He  should  not  have  a  perverted  con- 
science which  he  can  follow.  He  should  have  no  conscience 
but  a  good  one,  one  that  is  fit  to  be  followed,  and  one  that 
is  worthy  to  punish  him  if  he  do  not  follow  it.  He  was 
made  soi  that  he  may  have,  and  he  ought  to  have,  and  not 
only  to  have  but  also  to  obey,  this  accurate  conscience.  Of 
course  he  ought  to  do  what,  at  the  time  of  his  deed,  after 
having  adopted  all  possible  means  of  learning  his  duty,  he 
thinks  to  be  right,  or  else  what  he  thinks  to  be  wrong;  and 
to  affirm  that  a  man  ought  to  do  what,  at  the  time  of  doing 
it,  he  thinks  to  be  wrong,  is  a  solecism  in  morals.^  Is  it 
then  inquired  whether  in  the  last  resort  every  citizen  must 

^  The  patriots  of  our  land  have  been  trained  to  a  high  reverence 
for  their  moral  faculty.  John  Adams,  writing  to  his  son  John 
Quincy  Adams,  at  St.  Petersburg,  in  1782,  says :  "Your  conscience 
is  the  minister  plenipotentiary  of  God  Almighty  in  your  breast. 
See  to  it  that  this  minister  never  negotiates  in  vain.  Attend  to  him 
in  opposition  to  all  the  courts  in  the  vi^orld." — Letters  of  Mrs.  Adams, 
p.  427,  4th  edition. 


i66        The  indebtedness  of  the 

judge  of  his  political  duty?  He  must  judge  of  it,  provided 
that  he  is  to  be  judged  for  it  at  the  last  day.  He  must  de- 
cide for  himself,  unless  some  magistrate  is  to  stand  as  a 
daysman  between  him  and  the  King  of  kings  at  the  dread 
account.  A  man  must  determine  for  himself  his  religious 
faith,  with  a  view  of  its  everlasting  consequences,  and  he  is 
also  summoned  to  determine  his  poHtical  conduct  with  a 
view  of  life  or  death,  honor  or  infamy,  as  its  result.  This  is 
the  condition  of  our  free  agency.  Herein  is  the  dignity  and 
grandeur  of  the  soul.  Here  is  the  solemnity  of  a  life  on 
which  depends  the  life  to  come ;  and  here  do  we  find  a  new 
and  a  prominent  reason  why  the  God  of  nations  has  appoint- 
ed a  class  of  ethical  advisers  who  may,  with  his  help,  train 
men  to  make  and  to-  keep  their  conscience  pure,  to  educate 
it,  to  rectify  it,  to  preserve  it  as  a  safe  guide,  to  obey  it 
when  it  is,  as  it  always  may  and  should  be  thus  safe,  to  cher- 
ish that  spirit  which  has  the  promise  of  leading  men  into 
the  truth,  to  suspect  their  own  decision  when  opposed  to 
that  of  their  lawgivers,  to  judge  of  "the  powers  that  be" 
with  a  devout  and  humble  temper,  and  never  to  venture  on 
disobedience  to  them  save  in  the  last  and  most  dismal  emer- 
gency ;  to  give  up  for  them  everything  which  does  not  for- 
feit the  favor  of  Him  whose  favor  is"  life  to  the  nation,  and 
"if  it  be  possible,  as  much  as  lieth  in  them,  to  live  peaceably 
with  all  men,"  and  above  all  with  thosei  men  who  bear  the 
sword  not  in  vain. 

But  is  there  not  peril  in  these  private  decisions?  Peril! 
Where  is  there  not  peril  on  this  earth,  spread  all  over  with 
snares  and  pitfalls,  as  the  signs  and  results  of  transgression? 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  167 

Peril !     If  we  take  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  fly  any- 
where within  the  confines  of  probation,  we  shall  find  peril. 
He  who  made  us  meant  to  try  us,  and  danger  is  our  trial. 
There  is  danger  in  enslaving  the  conscience.   There  is  dan- 
ger in  subduing  men  into  peace  by  benumbing  the  vitality 
of  their  individual  judgment.    A  State  will  never  thrive  by 
counseling  its  citizens  to  undervalue  their  moral  nature, 
to  brave  as  womanish  their  fears  of  sinning,  to  become  pa- 
triotic by  becoming  indifferent  to  their  conscientious  scru- 
ples, to  sacrifice  a  general  to  a  mere  incidental  expediency. 
A  political  party  will  sooner  or  later  lose  its  dominion,  un- 
less it  associate  with  itself  the  religious  sentiment  of  the 
people.     For,  while  the  interests  of  men  vary,  and  favor 
now  this  party  and  then  another,  the  religious  sentiment 
holds    on   and   holds    out,    oscillating    sometimes   like   the 
needle,  but  sure  to  come  back  again  at  last,  and  point  to 
the  star  which  lingers  over  the  abode  of  justice  and  of  truth. 
In  certain  individuals  this  sentiment  is  diseased.    There  is 
danger  here  as  well  as  elsewhere,  and  indeed  everywhere. 
A  morbid  conscientiousness  makes  good  men  discern  evils 
which  do  not  exist.     There  is  danger  that  men  mistake  a 
diseased  imagination  for  a  moral  sense ;    and  it  was  well 
said  by  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  that  there  is  no  class  of  men 
so  difficult  to  be  managed  in  a  State  as  those  whose  inten- 
tions are  honest,  but  whose  consciences   are  bewitched.^ 
And,  when  the  religious  sentiment  becomes  fanatical,  you 

'  "No  such  instrument  to  carry  on  a  refined  and  welhvoven  re- 
bellion as  a  tender  conscience  and  a  sturdy  heart.  He  who  rebels 
conscientiously,    rebels   heartily." — Dr.   South. 


i68  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

cannot  repress  it  by  threatening.  It  laughs  at  the  shaking  of 
a  spear.  You  cannot  silence  it  by  mere  calculations  of  ex- 
pediency. You  might  as  well  put  a  bridle  on  the  north 
wind  as  forcibly  bridle  the  tongue  of  either  man  or  woman 
who  is  goaded  on  by  a  conscience  made  too  sharp  in  its 
friction  against  common  sense.  This  irritated  feeling  is 
calmed  quietly,  if  at  all;  by  gentle  appliances,  if  by  any; 
and  these  are  the  appliances  of  the  gospel.  And  here,  again, 
we  see  a  reason,  and  a  good  and  a  great  reason,  why  the  min- 
isters of  this  gospel  are  needed  by  the  State ;  for  their  busi- 
ness is  to  assuage  a  false  zeal  by  a  true  one,  to  call  up  one 
religious  sentiment  which  may  modify  another,  to  qualify 
fervor  by  Christian  prudence,  to  restore  the  equilibrium  of 
the  feeling,  to  intreat  the  aid  of  Him  who  maketh  his  chil- 
dren wise,  and  thus  to  prevent  men  from  being  martyrs  by 
mistake,  and  from  making  imprisonment  the  conclusion  of 
the  syllogism  of  which  ignorance  and  fanaticism  are  the 
major  and  the  minor  premises.  And  there  is  one  sentiment, 
which  is  a  religious  one,  and  which  the  minister  may  often 
evoke  for  the  allying  of  unwholesome  excitements  against 
the  law. 

I  therefore  remark,  that  a  third  political  virtue  which  the 
pastor  favors  is  a  love  of  country.  Tlie  names  of  Luther  and 
Melancthon  give  to  the  Saxon  and  the  Prussian  a  new  inter- 
est in  their  fatherland.  Her  Bossuets  and  Fenelons  bright- 
en the  glory  of  France  to  the  eye  of  her  citizens,  and  the 
I.atimers  and  Jeremy  Taylors  of  England  invest  v^th  a 
singular  charm  their  old  homes  and  mother  tongue.  It  is 
natural  that  the  fondness  of  parishioners  for  their  minister 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  169 

should  diffuse  itself  so  far  as  to  embrace  the  country  which 
he  loves  and  serves.  The  nature  of  his  office  is  peculiarly- 
congenial  with  our  republican  institutions.  Even  when  it 
was  most  perverted,  and  when  other  high  functions  lay 
under  an  hereditary  caste,  this  office  remained  open  to^  all, 
and  was  the  only  avenue  of  the  poor  to  places  of  influence 
and  trust.  So  the  duties  of  the  office  are  eminently  re- 
publican.' Scholars  and  civilians  have  longed  in  vain  to 
hear  the  eloquent  conversation  of  Robert  Hall ;  but  the 
framework-knitters  of  Leicestershire  were  sought  out  by 
him,  and  were  comforted  by  the  words  which  would  have 
been  written  in  the  books  of  more  learned  hearers.  Philoso- 
phers have  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Berlin  for  an  interview 
with  Schleiermacher,  and  have  found  him  conversing  with 
the  children  of  peasants  in  the  streets.  One  aim  of  the 
Christian  ministry  is  to  develop  the  importance  of  every  in- 
dividual soul,  to  give  a  consciousness  of  their  own  worth  to 
the  lower  classes,  to  bring  together  both  the  rich  and  the 
poor  before  the  Maker  of  them  all,  and  thus  to  prevent  the 
evils,  if  not  the  existence,  of  pauperism.  Just  such  is  the 
genius  of  our  republican  institutions.  A  wise  clergyman — 
but  every  clergyman  is  not  wise — will  love  a  republic,  for 
it  stimulates  the  mind  to  an  enterprise  which  will  one  day 
become  a  Christian  zeal.  Its  citizens  are  not  joyous,  nor  so 
contented  even,  as  are  many  subjects  of  a  monarch,  but 
^  "They  demand  that  the  minister  be  of  no  particular  caste,  but  that 
he  be  a  bond  of  union  between  all  castes;  that  he  be  neither  a  pa- 
trician solely,  nor  a  plebeian  solely,  but  that  he  move  from  the  palace 
to  the  cottage,  and  from  the  cottage  to  the  palace,  as  a  man  who  is 
at  home  wherever  he  can  commune  with  a  human  soul." — Chalmers' 
Life,  Vol.  II.  p.  550. 


I70  THE   INDEBTEDNESS   OF   THE 

they  are  trained  to  think  more,  to  know  more,  to  possess 
more  of  character,  of  real  manhood.  Hereby  are  they  fitted 
to  love  more,  to  be  more  vigorous  philanthropists,  to  be 
more  capacious  of  godly  thoughts,  to  have  more  of  that  in- 
dividuality which  is  the  basis  of  rich  spiritual  gifts."  A  wise 
minister  will  love  this  repubhc,  for  Christian  sympathies 
gave  the  first  impulse  to  it,"  and  it  is  in  its  spirit  a  humane, 
considerate  and  Christian  republic,  and  it  has  been,  is  now, 
and — he  trusts  in  God — is  long  to  be,  an  asylum  for  the  per- 
secuted church.  It  is  the  habit  of  his  religion  to  take  the 
form  of  patriotism.  His  professional  style  does  not  allow 
him  to  say  so  much  as  others  of  our  "eagle,  stars  and  stripes, 
the  beat  of  our  drum,  and  the  thunder  of  our  cannon,"  but 
he  feels  inspired  by  their  influence  so  far  forth  as  they  are 
expressions  of  a  self-respect  which  may  add  to  the  dignity 
of  Christian  freemen.  The  pulpit  is  no  place  for  him  to 
boast  of  our  shores  bounding  either  ocean ;  still,  his 
heart  is  expanded  by  the  thought  of  them,  as  of  lines 
of  light  which  are  to  illumine  the  East  and  the  West, 
Africa  and  Japan.     He  expects  to  dig  for  no  treasures 

"In  a  recent  lecture  of  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  (Lord  Morpeth),  he 
says  of  our  countrymen :  "One  of  their  able  public  men  made  an  ob- 
servation to  me  which  struck  me  as  pungent,  and  perhaps  tmo,  that 
[theirs  is]  probably  the  country  in  which  there  is  less  misery  and  less 
happiness  than  in  any  other  of  the  world."  But  in  no  other  coun- 
try is  there  so  much  of  tact,  shrewdness,  common  sense,  energy,  and 
consequent  capability  of  exploits.  This  is  not  the  world  for  happi- 
ness, but  for  exertion;  and  therefore  a  philanthropist  who  sees  the 
need  of  enterprise  and  toil  for  the  moral  education  of  the  race,  must 
feel  a  peculiar  interest  in  a  country  which,  like  our  own,  trains  men 
for  high  efforts. 

'John    Cotton    has    been    called    the    founder    of    Massachusetts; 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  171 

along  the  Sacramento,  for  he  is,  and  is  to  be,  a  "poor 
wise  man ;"  but  he  has  a  faith  that  the  pillars  of 
learned  schools  are  yet  to  be  laid  in  these  mines  opened 
by  human  science,  and  that  in  these  schools  religion  is 
yet  to  sit  enthroned  and  "girded  round  about  with  a  gold- 
en girdle."  His  pious  sympathies  are  bound  up  with  the 
union  of  our  States ;  for  in  that  union  are  blended  the  inter- 
ests of  free  thought  and  free  speech.  While  he  loves  his 
country  he  is  not  unmindful  of  its  sins,  and  in  laboring  to 
purify  it  from  evil  he  gains  a  clearer  view  of  its  capabilities 
for  good.  He  loves  it  for  these  capabilities.  He  loves  it 
because  its  place  in  the  geography  of  the  world  and  in  the 
history  of  the  world  gives  it  an  influence  over  the  eastern 
and  the  western  nations,  over  the  old  dynasties  and  the  new 
republics.  Never  does  he  inscribe  on  his  banner:  "Our 
country  right  or  wrong,"  but  his  motto  is :  "Our  country 
for  the  right,  and  against  the  wrong."  He  remembers  the 
apostle  who,  while  rebuking  his  fellow  Israelites,  breathed 
the  self-denying  spirit  of  a  patriot,  saying:  "I  could  wish 
that  myself  were  anathema  from  Christ  for  my  brethren.  .  . 
zvhose  are  the  fathers."  To  the  earlier  ministers  of  the  gos- 
pel the  spirit  of  true  patriotism  was  commended  by  Him 
who  having  been  condemned  to  suffer  in  Jerusalem  charged 
his  disciples  tO'  perform  their  work  of  love  "among  all  na- 
tions, beginning  at  Jerusalem."  ^ 

Thomas  Hooker,  the  founder  of  Connecticut;  Roger  Williams,  the 
founder  of  Rhode  Island,  etc.  Our  own  clergymen,  too, — Hopkins, 
Mills,  Finley,  Ashmun, — gave  the  first  impulse  to  the  Republic  of 
Liberia.  Other  American  preachers  have  planted  and  are  still  plant- 
ing the  germs  of  other  Republics, 
^  For  testimonies  to  the  good  influence  of  clergymen  in  the  early 


172  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

IV.    The  Statei  is  indebted  to  the  clergy  for  their  efforts 
in  promoting  Christian  benevolence.     Such  benevolence  is 
something  more  and  higher  than  the  religious  sentiment 
and  the  natural  virtues.     It  quickens,  regulates,  beautifies, 
hallows  them.     It  involves  a  holy  love  of  self,  relatives, 
friends,  strangers,  enemies ;    of  one's  country,  one's  race, 
the  world;    of  all  in  fit  proportion  to  each  other,  of  God 
more  than  all ;   of  all  in  their  relation,  their  due  subordina- 
tion to  God.    The  life  of  many  a  pastor  who  cannot  calcu- 
late on  living  for  two  years  in  his  own  hired  house,  but  is 
sent  from  town  to  town  by  the  caprice  of  fickle  majorities, 
and  who,  without  any  certain  dwelling-place  for  himself, 
submits    to    the    expectation    of   leaving   his    widow    and 
orphan    children    homeless    and    penniless,    and    who    still 
perseveres    in    storing    his    mind    with    good    thoughts 
that    he    may    comfort    the    sick    and    sorrowing,    is    an 
example    of   this    benevolence.      Often,    at   least,    he   was 
prompted   by   this   virtue   to    enter   an   office  convention- 
ally   excluding    him    from    some    recreations    which    add 
vigor    to     other    men,     and>    wasting    his    health     by    a 
continuous  and  peculiar  tax  on  his  sensibilities ;   an  office, 
in  preparing  for  which  he  has  anticipated  a  meager  and  ill- 
paid  income'  so  needful  for  the  supply  of  his  intellectual 
days  of  our  republic,  see  the  Address  of  President  AVashington  to 
the  Synod  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  of  North  America.     He 
quotes  and  endorses  the  expression  of  the  Synod,  that  "while  just 
government  protects  all  in  their  religious  rights,  true  religion  afJords 
to  government  its  surest  support."— Sparks's  Writings  of  Washing- 
ton, Vol.  XII.  pp.  167,  405.     See  also  the  Letter  to  Washington  from 
General  Lincoln  acknowledging  the  good  and  "very  great  influence 
of  the  clergy." — Sparks's  Washington,  Vol.  IX.  p.  330. 

^  A  small  salary  would  be  a  less  inadequate  recompense  for  the 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  173 

wants,  and  in  prosecuting  which  he  is  often  humbled  by  the 
deprivation  of  even  the  conveniences  of  Hfe ;  and  still  he 
magnifies  this  ofBce  by  the  cheerful  discharge  of  its  phil- 
anthropic duties.  It  is  the  diffusive  influence  of  this  virtue 
that  exalteth  a  nation.  The  Germans  gained  the  means  of 
their  mental  supremacy  from  Saint  Boniface,  when  he  car- 
ried to  them  the  gospel  of  love.  We  may  trace  the  preem- 
inence of  our  Anglo-Saxon  fathers  to  the  mission  of  Saint 
Austin,  who  commended  to  them  that  godliness  which  is 
profitable  unto  all  things.  Designing  to  speak  with  a  sneer, 
men  have  denominated  the  clergy  a  "spiritual  police,"  ^  em- 
ployed for  preventing  the  crimes  which  the  civil  police 
would  punish  with  carnal  weapons.  But  in  the  sneer  lies  a 
pleasant  truth.  Degrading  as  the  phrase  may  seem,  true 
religion  has  an  economical  value.     It  was  given  for  the 

labor  of  clergymen,  if  the  customs  of  society  and  their  own  mental 
tendencies  allowed  them  to  employ  those  economical  expedients 
which  are  proper  for  men  of  a  less  spiritual  vocation.  "We  have 
took,"  says  Dr.  South,  "all  ways  to  affright  and  discourage  scholars 
from  looking  towards  this  sacred  calling;  for  will  men  lay  out  their 
wit  and  judgment  upon,  that  employment  for  the  undertaking  of 
which  both  will  be  questioned  ?" — Sermon  on  i  Kings  13 :  33,  34. 
One  of  the  modern  Romish  fathers,  earning  his  daily  bread  by  teach- 
ing the  Oriental  languages  and  working  as  a  compositor  in  a  print- 
ing-office, had  for  his  motto:  "Tribulations  are  my  distinction,  and 
poverty  my  glory."  A  clergyman  who  has  a  world-wide  reputation 
remarked  in  his  extreme  old  age:  "If  I  live  three  years  longer  I  shall 
not  have  enough  property  left  to  pay  for  my  coffin."  But  he  had 
preached  so  often  against  the  love  of  filthy  lucre  that  he  was  not 
suspected  of  feeling  an  acute  pain  in  view  of  his  penniless  old  age. 

^  A  similar  title  has  been  sometimes  given  to  them,  without  any 
intention  of  undervaluing  their  office.  In  the  Prussian  laws  they  are 
called  Staats-beamten.  Dr.  Inglis  calls  the  clergy  a  "moral  con- 
stabulary."    "If  there  was  not  a  minister  in  every  parish,"  says  Dr. 


174  THE   INDEBTEDNESS   OF   THE 

State  as  well  as  for  individuals,  and  in  the  reciprocity  of 
benefits  the  State  was  by  its  first  Author  designed  for  re- 
ligion. Men  have  organized  civil  society  with  a  primary 
intent  of  securing  physical  good,  as,  for  example,  "undis- 
turbed rest  within  unbarred  doors,"  But  sleep  is  not  the 
final  good ;  it  is  a  mere  preparative  for  another  and  higher 
good.  Men  have  formed  the  State  with  an  immediate  aim 
to  cultivate  the  mind ;  but  an  active  intellect  is  a  means  to 
an  end,  and  is  less  noble  than  the  end.  Men  have  devised 
the  State  with  a  primary  design  of  augmenting  their  social 
pleasures,  but  He  who-  made  the  State  necessary  for  these 
pleasures,  contrived  them  as  the  allurements  to  that  love 
which  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law.  The  State  was  instituted 
by  men  with  the  direct  purpose  of  multiplying  the  arts  of 
life  and  increasing  the  facilities  of  commerce ;  but  the  finest 
of  the  arts  have  their  chief  value  as  persuasives  to  the 
beauty  of  holiness,  and  commerce  was  designed  of  heaven 
to  encourage  the  circumnavigations  of  charity ;  for  what 
shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  have 
none  of  that  benevolence  which  is  the  life  of  the  soul? 
Some  of  our  fathers  erred  in  supposing  that  political  gov- 
ernment was  intended  to  be  the  servitor  of  a  specified  visible 
church.^  No  visible  church  is  pure  enough  to  receive  such 
a  service.    None  is  strong  enough  to  retain  its  benevolence 

South,  on  I  Kings  13:  33,  34,  "you  would  quickly  find  cause  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  constables;  and  if  the  churches  were  not  em- 
ployed to  be  places  to  hear  God's  law,  there  would  be  need  of  them 
to  be  prisons  for  the  breakers  of  the  laws  of  men." 

^  See  a  Discourse  about  Civil  Government  in  a  Plantation  whose 
Design  is  Religion;  by  John  Cotton,  1663. 


STATE  TO  THE  CLERGY  175 

which  involves  its  meekness,  when  it  looks  upon  the  State 
as  its  handmaid.  We  must  confess  the  humiliating  fact, 
that  the  only  church  fit  to  be  thus  honored  by  rulers  is  the 
Invisible.  The  clergy  lose  their  official  life  when  they  find 
it  amid  the  honors  of  State  patronage.  Such  honors  in- 
fiame  their  ambition  or  their  envy;  and  clerical  am- 
bition and  clerical  envy,  taking  hold  of  the  eternal 
world  and  refining  themselves  with  the  truth,  which, 
even  when  perverted,  is  instinct  with  power,  consume  the 
best  sympathies  of  the  soul,  and  burn  to  the  lowest  depths. 
The  pride  of  the  world  is  superficial  when  compared  with 
that  of  a  priesthood,  flattered  with  the  temptation  of  wield- 
ing the  strong  arm  of  a  civil  government  in  the  enforcement 
of  their  own  creed.  The  human  soul  is  too  weak  to  bear  a 
union  of  the  temporal  with  the  spiritual  authority.  But 
there  is  a  purer  church,  invisible,  composed  of  all  men  of 
all  sects  who  love  Jehovah  with  the  whole  soul  and  their 
neighbors  as  themselves,  who  love  their  country  because  it 
belongeth  to  him,  and  love  him  the  more  because  among 
other  and  richer  gifts  he  has  given  them  such  a  country, 
who  obey  magistrates  "for  the  Lord's  sake,"  and  worship 
the  Lord  in  sustaining  the  "ordinances  of  man,"  who  have 
that  benevolence  which  comprehends  in  itself  all  that  is 
most  amiable  in  character,  and  on  which  hang  all  the  law 
and  the  prophets.  Now,  it  is  to  enlarge  the  number  and  to 
augment  the  excellence  of  such  men,  that  He  who  doeth  all 
things  for  eternity  hath  ordained  the  State.  And  it  is  with 
the  same  loving  aim  that  He  hath  also  ordained  the  minis- 
ters of  the  Church.    These  ministers,  then,  serve  the  State 


176  THE    INDEBTEDNESS    OF    THE 

in  fulfilling  its  last  and  noblest  destiny,  and  "they  shall 
bring  the  glory  and  honor  of  the  nations  into"  '  the  king- 
dom of  heaven ;  while  the  State  aids  the  ministers  in  per- 
mitting them  to  think  what  they  please  and  to  preach  what 
they  think.  The  clergy  favor  the  Commonwealth  by  con- 
fining themselves  to  their  rightful  sphere  and  pleading  the 
cause  of  virtue,  while  the  Commonwealth  favors  the  clergy 
by  confining  itself  to  its  own  department,  and  securing  to 
all  citizens  that  mental  and  moral  liberty  which  is  a  means 
of  spiritual  discipline.  The  government  provides  a  system 
of  elementary  instruction  for  the  people,  and  thus  furnishes 
worthy  minds  for  the  influence  of  the  pulpit ;  while  in  their 
turn  the  clergy  hallow  the  government  as  the  Lord's  anoint- 
ed, and  foster  those  habits  of  pious  allegiance  which  are  the 
protection  of  even  the  law  itself.  The  servants  of  the  State 
cut  the  cedar  trees  and  the  fir  trees  and  the  algum  trees  out 
of  Lebanon,  and  with  such  materials  the  servants  of  the 
Church  build  the  temple,  without  the  sound  of  a  hammer  or 
axe  or  any  tool  of  iron,  and  in  that  temple  ofifer  the  prayers 
of  the  people  for  all  who  are  in  authority." 

^  Rev.  21 :  26. 

^  Note  9,  in  Appendix. 


PROFESSOR  PARK  AT  51 


MOSES  STUART 


The  "Register"  of  that  day  had  the  following : — 

"Professor  Moses  Stuart  died  at  his  house  in  Andover,  where  he 
had  lived  for  more  than  forty  years,  on  the  evening  of  Sunday, 
Jan.  4th,  and  was  buried  from  the  Chapel  of  the  Seminary,  in  which 
he  had  so  long  worshiped  and  taught,  on  Thursday,  Jan.  8th.  The 
services  of  the  occasion  were  attended  by  a  numerous  concourse  of 
pupils,  professional  brethren,  neighbors  and  friends  and  were  in 
a  marked  degree  impressive  and  instructive.  They  were  introduced 
with  prayer  and  appropriate  selections  of  Scripture  by  Rev.  Pro- 
fessor Stowe  of  Brunswick.  The  general  prayer  was  offered  by 
Rev.  Dr.  Emerson  of  Andover,  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History; 
and  after  a  hymn,  the  funeral  discourse  was  preached  by  the  Rev. 
Professor  Park,  of  Andover." 

Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  writing  to  a  friend,  says  of  this  discourse: 
"The  reading  of  the  funeral  sermon  at  the  interment  of  Brother 
Stuart  has  made  this  a  forenoon  of  tender  reminiscences.  It  has 
made  the  grave  where  Jesus  slept  for  me  less  dreary,  and  heaven, 
where  he  reigns,  more  glorious  than  any  visions  of  the  past.  .  .  The 
sermon  was,  perhaps,  written  in  haste,  but  so  much  the  better. 
It  is  sublimely  superlative  in  its  tenderness  and  fullness  of  feeling 
and  majesty  of  just  eulogy,  and  honest  impartiality  in  the  recog- 
nition of  defects,  which,  while  they  depress,  do  raise  him  immeas- 
urably higher.  That  such  a  one  should  have  done  so  great  and 
noble  a  work,  renders  him  a  benefactor  of  his  country  and  the 
world." 


MOSES    STUART 

r  ■ 

"Them  that  honor  me  I  will  honor." — i  Sam.  2 :    30. 

"God  only  is  great."  He  sitteth  on  his  throne  independ- 
ent, and  needeth  not  the  homage  of  the  angels  even.  When 
Solomon  had  builded  "an  house  unto  the  name  of  the  Lord," 
he  was  overcome  by  the  thought  of  having  ventured  to  pro- 
vide a  resting-place  for  Him  who  filleth  immensity;  and 
with  a  subdued  feeling  he  exclaimed:  "Will  God  indeed 
dwell  on  the  earth?  behold,  the  heaven  and  heaven  of 
heavens  cannot  contain  thee;  how  much  less  this  house 
that  I  have  builded?"  So  wonderful  is  the  structure  of 
mind,  so  mysterious  are  the  sympathies  between  the  Great 
Spirit  and  the  intelligences  which  he  hath  made,  that  he 
is  said  to  inhabit  their  praises,  and  he  declares,  "Whoso 
offereth  praise  glorifieth  me." 

How  shall  we  understand  this  mystery?  In  what  way 
can  a  child  of  the  dust  honor  that  lofty  One  before  whom 
the  heavens  are  unclean? 

A  heathen  sage  has  said,  that  to  know  God  is  to  glorify 
him.  So  majestic  are  the  attributes  of  Jehovah,  that  a 
mind  perceiving  must  admire,  even  if  it  hate  them.  The 
conscience  of  a  fallen  spirit  approves  of  the  virtue  which 
the  will  (rejects.  God  is  exalted  by  the  lost  minds  who 
believe  and  tremble. 

Much  more  is  he  honored  by  men  who  piously  seek  to 
know,  in  order  to  love  him.    When  the  idea  of  his  excel- 


i8o  MOSES   STUART 

lence  is  followed  by  the  becoming  affection,  when  every 
thought  of  his  ways  elicits  the  appropriate  confidence,  when 
the  knowledge  of  his  truth  blooms  into  reverence  for  it, 
and  bears  the  fruit  of  peace  and  good  will,  then  is  the 
P'ather  glorified.  One  sigh  of  a  penitent  child  is  a  nobler 
tribute  to  the  divine  praise,  than  is  the  largest  knowledge 
of  a  seraph  even.  How  complete,  then,  is  the  honor  which 
God  receives  from  the  most  capacious  intelligence,  sancti- 
fied by  the  fullest  love ;  when  every  idea  concerning  him  is 
enriched  with  an  appropriate  emotion,  and  every  new 
thought  occasions  new  and  holier  joys! 

As  Jehovah  is  honored  by  the  mere  fact  of  our  intelli- 
gence respecting  him,  even  if  it  call  forth  a  reluctant  hom- 
age, and  still  more  by  our  free-will  offering,  that  answers 
to  the  claims  of  our  intelligence,  so  is  he  glorified  by  our 
endeavors  to  diffuse  among  other  minds  a  like  knowledge, 
with  its  corresponding  love.  A  Christian  scholar,  contend- 
ing with  the  infirmities  of  an  emaciated  body,  leaving  his 
sleepless  couch  that  he  may  discipline  himself  for  the 
studies  of  an  anxious  day,  and  closing  his  volume  at  even- 
ing, that  he  may  gain  some  intermittent  sleep  for  the  relief 
of  his  wearied  frame ;  eating  the  bread  of  carefulness,  that 
he  may  have  a  clear  mind  for  interpreting  the  sacred  page, 
keeping  aloof  from  the  busy  haunts  of  men,  that  he  may 
search  out  new  motives  for  winning  them  to  a  life  of  godli- 
ness— such  a  scholar  offers  his  soul  and  his  body  as  a  burnt- 
offering  to  the  Lord,  and  by  the  sacrifice  of  his  own  ease 
he  persuades  others  to  walk  in  the  ways  of  pleasantness 
and  peace.    When  a  Biblical  teacher  allures  young  men  to 


MOSES   STUART 


i«i 


become,  themselves,  the  instructors  of  the  community ; 
when  he  inspires  them  with  a  love  of  the  gospel,  qualifies 
them  to  translate  it  into  other  tongues,  instils  into  them 
an  earnest  desire  to  open  this  treasure  before  their  wonder- 
ing fellow  men ;  when  he  sends  them  forth,  year  after  year, 
to  the  east  and  the  west,  the  north  and  the  south,  earnest 
to  make  known  what  they  have  learned  from  him,  such  a 
teacher  of  teachers  is  himself  a  missionary,  perambulating 
among  the  dark  places  of  the  earth,  going  from  the  wig- 
wams of  the  West  to  the  city  of  Constantine,  and  in  a  kind 
of  moral  ubiquity  unfolding  the  varied  truths  which  he  has 
gathered  up  in  his  still  retreat.  On  one  and  the  same  Sab- 
bath, through  a  hundred  ministers,  to  Parthians  and  Medes, 
and  the  dwellers  in  Mesopotamia  and  in  Judaea  and  Cappa- 
docia,  in  Pontus  and  Asia ;  to  the  strangers  of  Rome,  Jews 
and  proselytes,  Cretes  and  Arabians,  he  is  speaking  in  their 
own  tongues  the  wonderful  works  of  God. 

The  principles  of  the  gospel  are  disseminated  among 
men,  not  more  by  argument,  than  by  the  authority  of  per- 
sonal character.  Hence  a  child  of  the  dust  may  honor  the 
King  of  kings,  by  associating  religion  and  religious  truth 
with  those  qualities  which  command  the  respect  of  the 
world. 

There  is  a  style  of  intellect  which  may  be  in  itself  no 
worthier  than  other  styles,  but  it  dazzles  the  observers;  it 
strikes  their  imagination;  it  enforces  homage.  A  man  of 
marked  subtlety  and  acuteness  of  powers,  of  accurate  dis- 
tinctions, and  a  scrupulous  nicety  of  expression,  is  not 
fitted  to  carry  captive  the  multitude;  but  they  are  surprised 


i82  MOSES   STUART 

and  borne  onward  by  the  comprehensive  mind  that  gen- 
eralizes extensively,  and  calls  up  illustrations  from  a  mul- 
tifarious reading ;  by  the  mind  that  takes  a  wide  range  over 
all  sciences,  and  sweeps  through  a  literature  in  various  and 
strange  languages,  and  holds  together  the  spoils  of  a  vast 
learning  within  the  grasp  of  a  giant  memory.  When  this 
man  consecrates  his  genius  to  the  cause  of  the  Nazarene, 
many  troubled  souls  are  comforted;  the  timid  grow  valiant 
in  the  cause  of  virtue,  and  praise  their  Maker  for  giving 
them  a  strong  staff  on  which  they  may  lean.  "Not  many 
wise  men  after  the  flesh,  not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble, 
are  called :  but  God  hath  chosen  the  foolish  things  of  the 
world  to  confound  the  wise;  and  God  hath  chosen  the  weak 
things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  things  which  are 
mighty;  and  base  things  of  the  world,  and  things  which  are 
despised,  hath  God  chosen,  yea,  and  things  which  are  not, 
to  bring  to  nought  things  that  are:  that  no  flesh  should 
glory  in  his  presence."  Still,  it  pleaseth  him  to  give  here 
and  there  a  sovereign  demonstration  that  all  the  riches  of 
the  spiritual  world  are  his;  that  at  his  behest  lie  the  re- 
sources of  the  most  versatile  intelligence,  and  he  holds  in 
his  hand  the  hearts  of  the  kings  in  the  realm  of  mind,  and 
turneth  them  whithersoever  he  will. 

Nor  is  our  Sovereign  honored  by  the  authoritative  char- 
acter of  the  intellect  alone,  which  he  consecrates  to  himself. 
There  is  a  peculiar  style  of  moral  excellence,  which,  though 
it  may  have  no  more  intrinsic  value  than  other  styles,  is 
more  fitted  to  attract  the  admiration  of  men  to  itself  and 
to  its  great  Author.     There  is  a  virtue  in  duly  caring  for 


MOSES   STUART  183 

the  body;  but  the  sympathies  of  the  world  will  rather  go 
with  him  who  makes  the  animal  give  way  to  the  spiritual 
nature,  and  is  not  afraid  to  use,  while  he  does  not  abuse 
his  health,  and  perseveres  in  weariness  and  painfulness,  in 
watchings  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst,  in  fastings  often,  in 
cold  and  nakedness,  to  labor  for  the  moral  improvement  of 
the  churches.  There  is  a  virtue  in  frugality,  but  the  mul- 
titude will  kindle  into  the  higher  enthusiasm  for  a  generous 
temper,  and  in  their  view  the  crown  of  a  public  servant  is, 
that  after  a  hard  life  he  died  poor.  There  is  a  virtue  in 
a  fitting  deference  to  the  opinions  of  the  community ;  but 
the  masses  of  the  people  will  raise  their  loudest  shout  for 
the  man  who  braves  public  opinion  in  what  he  deems  a 
good  cause.  Sooner  or  later,  they  bow  before  him  who 
has  a  positive  character,  and  who  assails  a  favorite  error 
or  vice  in  high  places;  who  rushes  forward  amid  obloquy, 
in  defiance  of  a  general  ill  will,  and  is  earnest  for  a  seeming 
truth  or  grace,  be  it  generally  despised;  and  is  fearless  of 
all  who  may  resist  him,  and  hears  their  reproaches  and  goes 
forward  with  his  eye  single  on  one  mark,  and  when  cir- 
cumvented by  their  snares,  forces  his  passage  through 
them  and  gains  the  prize.  There  is  a  virtue  in  discreetness 
and  prudent  reserve;  but  the  hearts  of  men  will  open  most 
readily  to  him  who  is  frank  and  ingenuous ;  who  will  rather 
lose  his  cause  than  spring  a  mine  upon  his  adversary  and 
will  be  ensnared  into  the  loss  of  his  estate  or  his  fame, 
sooner  than  be  guilty  of  one  mean  evasion;  who  will  re- 
tract his  errors  as  guilelessly  as  he  made  them,  and  will 
expose  all  his  foibles,  and  lay  open  the  recesses  of  his  soul 


i84  MOSES   STUART 

gladly,  rather  than  deceive  the  lowest  of  his  race.  When 
a  man  of  such  noble  impulses  blends  his  own  name  with 
that  of  true  godliness,  he  is  a  jewel  in  the  Redeemer's 
crown.  He  wins  a  large  community  to  a  devout  life.  He 
makes  men  feel  that  lowly  Christians  are  the  world's  nobil- 
ity. They  honor  God  for  himi.  He  honors  God  through 
them.  It  may  be  that  Simon  Peter  had  no  truer  love  than 
Bartholomew  or  James  the  Less,  but  he  has  associated 
religion  with  an  intrepid  spirit,  and  identified  real  piety 
with  real  courage;  and  all  times  will  pay  obeisance  to  a 
manly  boldness,  and  to  the  genius  of  the  gospel,  which 
makes  the  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth,  but  makes 
the  righteous  bold  as  a  lion. 

"Them  that  honor  me  I  will  honor."  God  exalts  them, 
in  causing  them  to  glorify  him.  Nothing  can  glorify  that 
august  Being,  save  what  is  itself  noble,  and  by  everything 
which  is  truly  dignified  he  is  exalted,  as  the  Great  Spirit 
from  whom  cometh  down  every  perfect  gift.  The  chief 
greatness  of  man  is  summed  up  in  his  virtue,  and  this  vir- 
tue is  itself  an  honor,  and  the  virtuous  man  has  obtained 
this  honor  from  the  Father  of  Lights,  and  is  ennobled  by 
the  mere  reception  of  that  which,  proverbially,  is  its  own 
reward. 

As  we  honor  the  Most  High  by  a  love  of  his  truth,  so 
he  will  crown  that  love  with  his  blessing.  It  is  one  office 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  make  fresh  disclosures  of  his  will  to 
the  earnest  and  trustful  seeker.  He  is  pleased  by  our 
honest  search  after  all  that  pertains  to  his  attributes.  No 
man  has  a  character  that  will  bear  to  be  thoroughly  exam- 


MOSES   STUART  185 

ined.  The  great  distinction  of  God  is,  that  all  new  discov- 
eries of  his  ways  will  be  discoveries  of  new  excellence,  and 
we  praise  him  by  our  assured  faith  that  the  deeper  we 
descend  into  the  mine  of  Christian  doctrine,  so  much  the 
richer  will  be  the  gold  and  the  precious  stones  found  in 
those  depths.  His  will  is,  that  himself  be  known,  not  be 
hidden  from  observation.  They  who  strive  to  know  him, 
then,  coincide  with  his  will ;  and,  seeking,  shall  find  the 
wisdom  which  he  gives  in  recompense  of  their  toils.  There 
is  a  sympathy  between  an  inquiring  spirit  and  every  re- 
ligious idea.  That  idea  is  like  a  magnet,  drawing  to  itself 
the  mind  that  inclines  to  learn  of  it.  The  appetences  of 
a  Christian  scholar  after  larger  and  higher  attainments  in 
revealed  truth,  are  a  commendation  of  that  truth;  as  the 
bended  branches  of  a  house-plant  toward  the  window,  illus- 
trate the  worth  of  the  light  of  day.  Nothing  can  satisfy 
a  true  divine  but  the  Word  of  God.  In  his  extreme  age 
his  zeal  remains  fresh  for  this  Word.  As  he  walks  the 
streets  he  is  old;  but  he  becomes  young  again  when  he 
opens  this  volume,  for  this  renews  the  strength  of  the  faint. 
Amid  the  depressing  maladies  of  a  student's  life,  he  finds 
his  chief  comfort  in  exploring  these  pages,  for  these  are 
a  medicine  to  the  sick.  The  world  is  dark  to  him,  but  the 
Bible  lies  before  him  in  illuminated  letters.  Foes  rise  up 
against  him,  but  he  loses  himself  in  the  contemplation  of 
God.  He  is  enveloped  in  the  truth.  This  is  his  protection. 
And  the  very  fact  that  the  Scriptures  have  this  variety  of 
appeal  to  his  varied  sensibiHties,  that  they  are  his  defence 
amid  peril,  his  lamp  in  the  darkness,  his  companion  when 


i86  MOSES   STUART 

lonely,  his  staff  when  he  is  languid;  the  fact  that  they  are 
everything  to  him  in  every  want,  is  an  encomium  upon 
their  value,  as  it  proves  them  to  be  the  word  ever  in  season. 
Such  a  man,  free  from  personal  interests,  superior  to  par- 
tisan schemes,  sacrificing  his  old  prejudices  to  the  great 
Teacher,  will  be  elevated  into  the  true  knowledge.  He 
may  err  in  an  individual  argument.  He  may  mistake  a 
minor  interpretation.  But  we  may  rely  upon  the  general 
tendencies  of  his  mind.  The  great  principles  of  the  gospel 
he  will  understand.  This  understanding  is  an  appropriate 
reward  for  a  hearty  search.  He  who  gives  a  healthful  air 
to  the  lungs  panting  for  it,  and  provides  a  fit  satisfaction 
for  every  instinct  made  by  him,  also  "giveth  to  a  man  that 
is  good  in  his  sight  wisdom,  and  knowledge,  and  joy ;"  and 
has  established  it  as  an  ordinance,  that  if  an  inquirer  have 
a  pure  love  for  the  truth,  he  shall  be  honored  with  a  grow- 
ing knowledge  of  it. 

To  a  man  of  these  generous  aspirations  after  the  highest 
wisdom,  will  be  vouchsafed  a  good  name  among  his  fellow 
men.  Even  in  this  gross  world,  God  will  honor  him  for 
his  spiritual  tastes.  Amid  the  ruins  of  the  fall,  there  is  still 
preserved  in  the  race  a  respect  for  truth,  and  for  those  who 
seek  the  truth  with  a  full  heart.  Men  who  hate  the  search, 
will  gaze  and  admire.  Deep-seated  in  the  human  soul, 
among  its  ineradicable  instincts,  is  a  reverence  for  an 
honest  man,  who  studies  to  know  God  in  order  to  become 
like  him,  and  who  becomes  assimilated  to  him  in  order  to 
know  him  yet  more  perfectly.  Men  may  oppose  such  an 
inquirer;  they  may  calumniate  him,  but  the  best  part  of 


MOSES   STUART  187 

their  natures  yields  a  homag"e  to  him,  and  they  will  garnish 
his  sepulcher  when  he  is  no  more.  Even  if  the  letters  of 
his  name  be  forgotten,  his  character  will  be  venerated. 
The  reverence  which  is  paid  to  a  clear  mind  animated  by 
pure  desires,  is  paid  to  him  in  reality,  though  not  in  form, 
after  his  titles  and  even  his  residence  have  ceased  to  be 
recognized.  The  thoughts  which  he  started  into  life  will 
live  on,  and  at  last  will  find  him  out  and  pay  him  tribute. 
No  literature  is  so  permanent  as  the  religious ;  for  none 
is  so  intertwined  with  the  enduring  sensibilities  of  man. 
No  poetry,  no  paintings,  no  sculptures  keep  their  hold  on 
the  affections  of  the  race  so  long  as  those  which  are  con- 
secrated to  Him  who  made  our  souls  for  rehgion.  To  this 
end  are  we  born,  that  we  may  know  and  do  the  will  of  God. 
He,  therefore,  who  enlarges  our  comprehension  of  that 
will,  furthers  the  end  of  our  being;  and  as  men  become 
the  more  mindful  of  their  high  vocation,  they  will  be  the 
more  grateful  to  every  one  who  has  quickened  their  moral 
growth.  The  exile  at  St.  Helena  complained,  that  in  a 
few  ages  all  his  mighty  deeds  would  be  honored  with  only 
a  few  sentences  of  the  historian.  But  the  histories  which 
will  be  read  in  the  millennium,  will  portray  the  character 
and  the  influence  of  Augustine  and  Luther,  with  the  vivid- 
ness of  a  present  reality.  Long  buried  reminiscences  of 
the  good  will  then  be  revived.  Then  will  be  the  first  resur- 
rection of  those  who  have  signally  honored  God.  While 
the  fame  of  the  wicked  shall  be  as  the  snow  upon  the  river, 
the  deeds  of  the  righteous  shall  be  held  in  everlasting 
remembrance. 


i88  MOSES   STUART 

But  the  highest  honor  of  those  who  adorn  the  Church 
of  the  Redeemer,  is  reserved  for  a  nobler  sphere.  "They 
that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament ; 
and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  as  the  stars  for 
ever  and  ever."  He  that  hungereth  and  thirsteth  for 
divine  knowledge,  shall  sit  down  at  last  to  a  perennial 
feast.  He  who  has  the  most  spiritual  mind,  is  the  best 
prepared  for  the  world  of  spirits.  There  is  a  temple,  where 
the  fathers  of  the  Church  are  assembled  as  devout  learners. 
There  is  a  school,  where  great  philosophers  stand  in  ador- 
ing council.  There  is  an  arena,  where  the  captains  and  the 
mighty  men  of  the  Church  militant  rest  from  their  warfare, 
and  cast  the  crowns  of  their  victory  at  the  feet  of  the 
Prince  of  peace.  The  elect  minds  of  the  Church,  the  ven- 
erable doctors  of  divine  science  are  collected  there  in  a 
magnificent  array,  and  have  become  like  unto  their  great 
Teacher,  for  they  see  him  as  he  is.  Owen  and  Baxter  are 
there ;  and  strive  together  no  more.  Toplady  and  Wesley 
are  there;  and,  forgetting  their  old  contentions,  unite  in 
each  other's  hymns  of  praise.  Heaven  has  long  been  at- 
tracting to  itself,  and  continues  still  to  draw  up  within  its 
alluring  walls,  whatever  is  majestic  and  vigorous  and 
graceful  in  the  Church  below.  The  clouds  do  not  roll  up 
the  mountain  and  vanish  out  of  our  sight  into  the  pure 
skies  above  us  more  surely,  or  by  a  firmer  law,  than  our 
good  men  who  honor  their  Lord,  rise  from  our  view  to  be 
honored  by  him. 

When  the  Most  High  endueth  any  of  his  servants  with 
rich  and  costly  gifts  he  requireth  us  to  take  note  of  them, 


MOSES   STUART  189 

and  to  say  with  the  prophet :  "Blessed  be  the  name  of  God 
for  ever  and  ever :  for  wisdom  and  might  are  his :  and  he 
chang-eth  the  times  and  the  seasons :  he  removeth  kings, 
and  setteth  up  kings :  he  giveth  wisdom  unto  the  wise,  and 
knowledge  to  them  that  know  understanding."  Let  us 
now  strive  to  gain  a  deeper  reverence  for  his  name,  while 
we  glance  at  the  favors  which  he  lavished  upon  the  man 
whose  form,  on  its  passage  to  the  grave,  is  for  a  brief  hour 
detained  in  the  sanctuary. 

Moses  Stuart  was  born  in  the  town  of  Wilton,  State  of 
Connecticut,  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  March,  1780.  Like 
the  majority  of  our  clergymen,  he  was  a  farmer's  son;  and, 
tmtil  he  was  fourteen  years  old,  had  no  intention  of  pursu- 
ing any  but  a  farmer's  hfe.  His  early  field  labors,  although 
they  did  not  give  him  health,  were  one  means  of  prolong- 
ing his  days.  He  looked  back  upon  the  farm  as  one  of  his 
best  schools,  where  were  nurtured  some  of  his  most  health- 
ful tastes.  In  his  extreme  age,  he  remembered  the  eager- 
ness with  which,  when  but  four  years  old,  he  read  a  book 
of  popular  ballads.  At  that  early  period,  he  had  a  fondness, 
which  never  forsook  him,  for  the  creations  of  an  imagina- 
tive genius.  When  a  lad  of  but  twelve  years,  he  became 
absorbed  in  the  perusal  of  Edwards  on  the  Will.  In  his 
fifteenth  year,  he  was  sent  to  an  academy  in  Norwalk,  Con- 
necticut, merely  for  the  purpose  of  perfecting  his  English 
education.  His  preceptor  was  quick  to  recognize  in  him 
the  signs  of  a  masculine  intellect,  and  urged  him  to  pre- 
pare for  a  collegiate  course.     He  began  his  Latin  gram- 


190  MOSES   STUART 

mar  with  a  characteristic  impetus.  In  one  evening  he 
learned  the  four  conjugations  of  verbs.  In  another  even- 
ing he  mastered  the  sixty  rules  of  syntax.  In  three  days 
the  principles  of  the  whole  grammar  were  in  his  mind, 
and  he  found  himself  a  member  of  a  class  who  had  devoted 
several  months  to  the  language.  While  pursuing  the  Latin 
and  the  Greek,  he  attended  also  to  the  French  classics. 
Several  of  his  elder  schoolmates  had  devoted  many  weeks 
to  the  reading  of  Telemachus.  They  ridiculed  him  for  his 
attempt  to  recite  with  them  at  the  very  beginning  ^f  his 
study.  He  remained  with  them  a  day  and  a  half,  and  was 
then  transferred  to  a  higher  class. 

In  May,  1797,  having  been  under  the  careful  tuition  of 
Roger  Minot  Sherman,  he  entered  the  sophomore  class  of 
Yale  College.  At  this  period,  his  tastes  were  preeminently 
for  the  mathematics ;  but  his  thirst  for  all  learning  was 
intense.  His  physical  system  proved  then,  as  ever  after- 
ward, unable  to  sustain  the  full  action  of  his  mind.  One 
of  his  honored  classmates  describes  "the  identity  of  the 
youth  of  seventeen  with  the  old  man  of  seventy,"  and  says : 
"The  first  composition  which  I  heard  him  read,  was  in  the 
same  style,  in  its  leading  characteristics,  as  his  last  publi- 
cation from  the  press.  ...  At  our  commencement  in  1799 
he  had  the  salutatory  oration,  which  was  considered  at  that 
time  the  iirst  appointment,  and  I  do  not  suppose  that  a 
single  individual  of  the  class  thought  this  distinction  un- 
merited." Thus  early  in  life  he  had  a  marked,  positive,  de- 
termined character. 

During  the  year  after  his  graduation,  he  taught  an  acad- 


MOSES   STUART  191 

emy  in  North  Fairfield,  Connecticut ;  and  dtiring  a  part  of 
the  following  year,  he  was  the  principal  of  a  high  school 
in  Danbury,  Connecticut.  Here  he  commenced  the  study 
of  the  law.  He  soon  left  the  school  and  devoted  himself 
entirely  to  this  study,  in  the  office  of  Judge  Chapman  or 
Judge  Edmonds,  at  Newtown.  He  was  admitted  to  the 
bar  in  1802,  at  Danbury. 

In  the  legal  profession,  a  brilliant  career  opened  before 
him.  In  many  respects,  he  seemed  made  for  an  advocate. 
He  had  a  memory  quick  to  seize  the  minutest  facts  of  every 
case,  and  strong  to  retain  the  old  precedents  relating  to 
them.  He  had  a  rare  vividness  of  conception,  by  which 
he  could  bring  himself  and  his  auditors  into  the  ideal  pres- 
ence of  any  scene.  He  had  a  fertility  of  illustration,  and 
could  present  a  single  idea  in  so  many  different  lights  and 
shades,  as  to  make  the  dullest  mind  both  see  and  feel  it. 
He  had  a  singular  readiness  of  utterance,  and  a  quickness 
of  repartee,  and  a  forceful,  authoritative  manner  which 
would  have  held  a  mastery  over  the  jurors,  and  baffled 
most  of  his  antagonists.^  His  legal  studies  exerted  an 
obvious  influence  on  his  whole  subsequent  life.  He  ever 
delighted  in  examining  points  of  jurisprudence.    Thus  was 

^  The  power  of  Mr.  Stuart's  elocution  is  not  readily  understood 
by  those  who  heard  him  in  his  advanced  life  only.  An  eminent  critic, 
familiar  with  him  in  his  youth,  says  that  his  Master's  oration  spoken 
at  Yale  College  in  1802,  was  requested  for  the  press  and  published  by 
the  editor  of  the  United  States  Gazette,  in  Philadelphia,  and  adds : 
"This  was  an  honor  unusual  at  that  time.  I  must  say,  however,  that 
the  oration  owed  its  success  in  part  to  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
pronounced.  No  man  whom  I  have  ever  known,  has  appeared  to  me 
his  equal  in  the  faculty  of  saying  even  common  things  so  as  to  give 
them  the  air  of  novelties." 


192  MOSES   STUART 

he  led  to  cherish  such  an  interest  in  politics  as  was  enough 
to  absorb  an  ordinary  mind.  He  continued  through  life 
to  preserve  some  familiarity  with  the  decisions  of  the  Eng- 
lish  courts ;  with  the  movements  of  the  French  and  Ger- 
man parties,  and  was  as  conversant  with  the  political 
details  of  our  own  country,  as  if  he  had  been  constantly  in 
civil  office.  During  the  last  few  weeks  of  his  continuance 
among  us,  he  examined  our  relations  to  the  Magyars,  with 
as  lively  an  interest  as  if  he  had  been  responsible  to  our 
national  cabinet  for  his  opinion.  It  was  a  singular  felicity 
with  which,  in  the  professor's  chair,  he  often  referred  to 
the  principles  of  human  legislation,  for  the  purpose  of  il- 
lustrating the  divine.  He  acquired  a  certain  manliness  and 
versatility  of  style  from  his  perusal  of  the  forensic  orators, 
and  he  often  advised  men  to  study  the  noble  science  of 
the  law,  as  preparative  for  the  nobler  one  of  divinity. 

A  few  weeks  before  his  admission  to  the  bar,  he  was 
called  to  a  tutorship  in  Yale  College.  "My  love  of  study," 
he  writes,  "induced  me  to  accept  the  office."  He  continued 
to  perform  its  duties  from  the  autumn  of  1802  to  that  of 
1804.  A  teacher  of  large  experience,  who  was  then  asso- 
ciated with  him  in  the  college  faculty,  has  said  of  Mr. 
Stuart:  "He  excelled  all  men  whom  I  have  ever  known  in 
the  same  employment,  for  enkindling  among  his  pupils  an 
ardent  zeal  in  their  literary  pursuits;  although  his  instruc- 
tion, perhaps,  was  not  better  than  that  of  some  others.  .  .  . 
His  great  power  was,  in  making  a  class  feel  that  something 
was  to  be  done.  Even  Dr.  Dwight,  whose  influence  in  this 
way  was  wonderful,  did  not  in  this  particular  surpass  Mr. 


MOSES   STUART  193 

Stuart."  During  the  earlier  part  of  his  tutorship,  the 
science  of  the  law  was  ever  in  his  mind.  "I  well  remem- 
ber," says  one  of  his  associates  in  office,  "that  he  would 
often  speak  to  me  of  some  discovery  he  had  made  with 
regard  to  the  origin  of  a  legal  formula,  or  of  some  mode 
of  proceeding  in  the  courts  ;  or  he  would  mention  some  new 
decision  of  which  he  had  learned,  and  which  he  considered 
as  settHng  some  important  legal  principle." 

But  soon  a  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  his  conversa- 
tion.    He   felt,   probably,  the   influence   of  that   religious 
movement  which  had  so  recently  made  the  collegiate  year 
of  1801-2  so  memorable  in  the  annals  of  New  Haven.     Of 
two  hundred   and   thirty   students,   about   one-third,   and 
among  them  the  philanthropic  Evarts,  had  become  inter- 
ested in  the  claims  of  the  gospel.     One  day,  desirous  of 
procuring  some   appropriate  book  for  the  Sabbath,   Mr. 
Stuart  borrowed  of  the  president  a  volume  of  Macknight 
on  the  Epistles.      That  volume  opened  before  the  future 
philologist  a  new  field  of  inquiry.     At  first  his  interest  in 
it  seemed  to  be  a  mere  literary  inquisitiveness;  soon  he 
became  absorbed  in  religious  contemplation.     His  feelings 
were  deeply  moved.     For  a  long  time  he  resisted  the  new 
influence,  but  at  last  bowed  his  heart  before  God.     There 
was  great  joy  among  the  disciples,  when  so  promising  a 
mind  yielded  its  prospective  honors  to  the  Redeemer.     In 
the  early  part  of  1803  he  connected  himself  with  the  church 
in  Yale  College. 

Under  the  direction  of  President   Dwight,  who  enter- 
tained for  him  a  high  esteem,  he  now  began  to  prepare 


194  MOSES   STUART 

himself  for  the  work  of  a  preacher.  "After  readingf,"  he 
says,  "Dr.  Hopkins'  System  of  Divinity,  a  number  of 
President  Edwards'  Treatises,  several  of  Andrew  Fuller's, 
a  part  of  Ridgley's  Body  of  Divinity,  and  some  of  Mo- 
sheim's  Ecclesiastical  History,  and  a  part  of  Prideaux's 
Connection,  I  was  examined  and  licensed  to  preach,  by 
the  neighboring  Association  of  Ministers."  Thus  narrow 
was  the  ordinary  course  of  theological  study  in  that  day! 
Its  present  expansion  is  a  result,  in  no  small  degree,  of  his 
own  efforts. 

In  the  autumn  of  1804  he  journeyed  for  his  health 
among  the  Green  Mountains;  and  having  preached  several 
Sabbaths  at  Middlebury,  Vermont,  was  invited  to  take  the 
pastoral  care  of  the  Congregational  church  in  that  town. 
Having  declined  this  call,  he  spent  several  weeks  in  sup- 
plying the  pulpit  of  Rev.  Dr.  James  Dana,  in  New  Haven; 
and,  subsequently,  of  Rev.  Dr.  John  Rodgers,  in  New 
York.  "Soon  after  I  had  begun  to  preach  in  New  Haven," 
he  says,  "the  people  made  a  movement  to  obtain  the  con- 
sent of  their  pastor  that  I  should  be  settled  as  a  colleague 
with  him;  but  when  he  had  heard  me  preach  several  times, 
he  strenuously  opposed"  the  movement.  Dr.  Dana  had 
been  long  known  as  an  opposer  of  the  Edwardses,  Bel- 
lamy, and  Hopkins.  But  he  could  not  resist  the  deter- 
mination of  his  people  to  enjoy  the  services  of  Mr.  Stuart. 
He  was  dismissed  from  his  pastoral  office.  Mr.  Stuart 
was  chosen  his  successor  with  only  five  dissenting  votes, 
and  was  ordained  on  the  fifth  of  March,  1806.  "His  short 
ministry  in   New  Haven  marks  an  era  in  the  history  of 


MOSES   STUART  195 

the  church  which  he  served  as  pastor.  We  might  almost 
define  his  settlement  as  the  date  of  a  revolution.  The  old 
petrified  order  of  things  which  had  come  down  through 
the  ministry  of  at  least  three  successive  pastors,  and  which 
was  sanctified  by  the  traditions  of  more  than  a  century, 
was  rapidly  and  effectually  disturbed.  Meetings  for  prayer 
and  free  religious  conference,  which  before  had  been 
hardly  known — meetings  in  the  evening  by  candlelight, 
which  before  had  been  reckoned  little  better  than  a  scandal, 
became  frequent.  A  new  religious  vitality  began  to  be 
developed  in  the  church;  a  new  seriousness  spread  itself 
over  the  congregation  at  large."  So  writes  the  present 
minister  of  that  church,^  and  he  adds  that,  during  the  three 
years  and  ten  months  of  Mr.  Stuart's  pastorate,  two  hun- 
dred persons  were  admitted  into  full  communion  in  the 
church,  of  whom  only  twenty-eight  were  received  by  letter 
from  other  ecclesiastical  bodies.  Well-nigh  the  whole  min- 
istry of  this  zealous  man  was  passed  amid  scenes  of  special 
religious  interest.  They  fitted  him  for  his  literary  life.  He 
had,  indeed,  a  rare  combination  of  excellences  for  a  pulpit 
orator.  His  voice,  deep,  sonorous,  solemn,  was  like  that 
of  a  prophet.  His  commanding  and  impassioned  manner 
gave  to  his  spoken  words  a  power  which  they  lost  on  the 
printed  page.  His  language  was  copious,  his  illustrations 
were  distinct,  his  vivacity  of  thought  awakened  men,  his 
energy  of  feeling  bore  them  onward.  He  seized  a  subject 
in  its  strong  points,  and  held  it  up,  simple,  clear,  promi- 
nent, until  it  affected  his  hearers  as  it  obviously  affected 
^  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon,  d.  d. 


T96  MOSES   STUART 

himself.  He  loved  his  work.  His  interest  in  preaching 
rose  to  enthusiasm.  In  despite  of  all  his  zeal  for  books, 
he  devoted  each  afternoon  of  every  week  to  the  duties  of 
a  pastor.^  Had  he  remained  in  the  pastoral  life,  he  would 
have  been  what  is  now  provincially  termed  a  "revival 
preacher."  Thousands  in  our  cities  would  have  continued 
to  hang,  as  they  once  did,  upon  his  lips.  The  common  people 
heard  him  gladly.  Dr.  Porter  of  this  seminary,  on  listen- 
ing to  one  of  his  sermons,  almost  forgot  his  usual  care  for 
the  proprieties  of  the  occasion,  and  had  no  sooner  passed 
the  threshold  of  the  sanctuary,  than  he  exclaimed  aloud: 
"This  is  preaching  the  glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed  God!" 
The  life  of  our  friend's  discourses  was,  Christ  and  him 
crucified.  On  the  communion  Sabbath,  at  the  sacramental 
table,  his  emotions  often  choked  his  utterance,  and  he  ex- 
pressed his  sympathies  in  silent  tears.  Many  of  his  ad- 
mirers, after  maturest  deliberation,  deemed  it  unwise 
for  him  to  leave  the  sphere  of  a  parish  minister.  But  his 
field  was  the  world.  When  his  removal  to  Andover  was 
proposed  by  Dr.  Samuel  Spring,  President  Dwight  replied, 
"We  cannot  spare  him."  Dr.  Spring  rejoined,  "We  want 
no  man  who  can  be  spared." 

On  the  28th  of  February,  1810,  Mr.  Stuart  was  inaugu- 
rated Professor  of  Sacred  Literature,  in  Andover  Theologi- 

^  Speaking  of  a  negro,  once  purchased  as  a  slave  by  President 
Stiles,  Mr.  Stuart  was  wont  to  remark :  "That  negro  was  the  sexton 
of  my  church,  and  the  most  happy  man  on  account  of  his  piety  whom 
I  ever  knew.  I  used  to  call  on  him  oftener  than  on  any  man  in  my 
congregation,  and  it  did  me  more  good  to  hear  Iiiin  converse  on  his 
religious  experience,  than  any  other  man." 


MOSES   STUART  197 

cal  Seminary.  'T  came  here,"  he  says,  "with  Httle  more  than 
a  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  alphabet,  and  the  power  of 
making  out,  after  a  poor  fashion,  too,  the  bare  translation 
of  some  [five  or  six]  chapters  in  Genesis  and  a  few  psalms, 
by  aid  of  Parkhurst's  Hebrew  Lexicon,  and  without  the 
vowel-points.     I  had  not,  and  never  have  had,  the  aid  of 
any  teacher  in  my  Biblical  studies.    Alas,  for  our  country 
at  that  time  (A.  D.  1810);  there  was  scarcely  a  man  in  it, 
unless    by    accident    some    one    who    had   been   educated 
abroad,  that  had  such  a  knowledge   of  Hebrew  as  was 
requisite  in  order  to  be  an  instructor."  '   The  youthful  pro- 
fessor's acquaintance  with  the  Greek  language  was  far  in- 
ferior to  that  now  obtained  in  our  universities.     He  was 
to  be  a  self-made  man.     In  about  two  years,  amid  all  the 
heterogeneous  cares  of  a  new  office  and  a  new  seminary, 
he  prepared  a  Hebrew  grammar,  without  the  points,  for 
the  immediate  use  of  his  pupils.       They  were  obliged  to 
copy  it,  day  by  day,  from  his  written  sheets.    In  the  third 
year,   he  published  it  at  his  own   expense.     To  print   a 
Hebrew  grammar  was  then  a  strange  work.    He  was  com- 
pelled to  set  up  the  types  for  about  half  the  paradigms  of 
verbs,  with  his  own  hands.     He  taught  the  printers  their 
art.     Is  he  not  fitly  termed  the  father  of  Biblical  philology 
in  our  land?    Eight  years  afterwards,  he  printed  his  larger 
Hebrew  grammar.     This  he  soon  remodelled  with  great 
painstaking,   and   published   it   in  a   second   edition,   two 
years  after  the  first.     Not  satisfied  with  it,  he  reexamined 
all  its  principles  anew,  wrote  "some  of  it  three,  four,  and 
'  Christian  Review,  Vol.  VI,  p.  448. 


198  MOSES   STUART 

a  small  part  seven  or  eight  times  over," '  and  published  the 
third  edition  five  years  after  the  second.  Professor  Lee, 
of  the  University  in  Cambridge,  England,  while  speaking 
of  this  edition,  says,  "The  industry  of  its  author  is  new 
matter  for  my  admiration  of  him." '  When  called  to  pre- 
pare a  seventh  edition  of  this  work,  on  which  he  had  al- 
ready expended  labor  enough  to  fill  up  half  the  life  of  an 
ordinary  man,  he  preferred  to  introduce  the  amended  sys- 
tem of  younger  grammarians,  and  therefore,  in  his  sixty- 
seventh  year,  he  translated  the  grammar  of  Gesenius  as 
improved  by  Roediger.  As  early  as  1821,  his  enterprise 
had  procured '  for  the  seminary  a  Hebrew  press,  then  un- 
rivalled in  this  land;  and  as  early  as  1829,  he  had  at  his 
command  fonts  of  type  for  eleven  Oriental  languages  and 
dialects.  The  works  which  he  sent  forth  from  this  press, 
gained  the  notice  of  scholars  who  had  previously  looked 
upon  our  literature  with  indifference,  if  not  with  disdain. 
He  awakened  a  scientific  interest  in  Biblical  theology. 

When  he  began  his  course  in  the  seminary,  he  often 
consulted  Schleusner's  Lexicon,  and  was  troubled  by  the 
German  terms  occasionally  introduced  into  that  work.  No 
one  could  explain  their  meaning  to  him.  His  curiosity 
was  thorouglily  roused.  At  an  exorbitant  price  he  ob- 
tained the  apparatus  for  German  study,  and  in  a  single 
fortnight  had  read  the  entire  Gospel  of  John  in  that  lan- 

^  See  Preface  to  Hebrew  Grammar,  1828. 

^  See  North  American  Review,  Vol.  XXXVII,  p.  295,  and  Ameri- 
can Biblical  Repository,  Vol.  I,  pp.  776-786. 

*  Through  the  generosity  of  Rev.  John  Codman,  d.  d.,  of  Dorchester, 
Mass.,  donor  of  the  Codman  press. 


MOSES   STUART  199 

guage.  A  friend  presented  himi  with  Seiler's  Biblische 
Hermeneutik,  and  this  work  introduced  him  to  the  wide 
range  of  German  Hterature.  He  felt  himself  to  be  in  a  new 
world.  It  was  the  suggestions  and  references  of  that  one 
volume,  which  enabled  him,  through  the  liberal  aid  of  the 
trustees  of  the  institution,  to  fill  our  library  with  the  rich- 
est German  treatises  then  in  the  land.  "Before  I  obtained 
Seller,"  he  writes,  "I  did  not  know  enough  to  believe  that 
I  yet  knew  nothing  in  sacred  criticism." '  For  ten  years 
he  performed  the  rugged  work  of  a  pioneer;  and  in  his 
maturer  life  he  often  said  that  he  did  not  know  how  to 
begin  the  study  of  the  Bible  until  he  was  forty  years  old. 
For  forty  years  he  had  been  in  the  wilderness.  He  entered 
late  in  life  upon  the  promised  possession. 

Nor  was  he  merely  alone,  in  the  efforts  of  the  first  ten 
years  of  his  professorship.  To  have  been  simply  friendless 
would  have  been  to  him  a  relief.  But  the  anxieties  of  good 
men  were  awakened  with  regard  to  the  results  of  his  Ger- 
man study.  He  endured  the  whisperings  of  his  brethren. 
Many  of  them  met  him  with  an  averted  face.  "Solitary," 
he  says  of  himself,  "unsupported,  without  sympathy,  sus- 
pected, the  whole  country  either  inclined  to  take  part 
against  me,  or  else  to  look  with  pity  on  the  supposed  ill- 
judged  direction  of  my  studies,"  "admonished  by  my 
bosom  friends,"  "warned  of  my  approaching  ruin,"  "very 
sensitive  on  the  point  of  character,"  "many  a  sleepless 
night  have  I  passed,  and  many  a  dark  and  distressing  day, 
when  some  new  eflfusion  of  suspicion  or  reproof  had  been 
^  Christian  Review,  Vol.  VI,  p.  449. 


200  MOSES   STUART 

poured  upon  me."  ^  Morning  after  morning  he  sallied 
forth  from  his  house  at  five  o'clock,  through  rain,  hail, 
snow,  storm,  and  as  his  attenuated  figure  breasted  the 
winds  of  our  cold  winters,  it  seemed  a  type  of  his  spirit, 
encountering  manfully  the  opposition  not  of  foes  only — 
this  were  easily  borne — but  of  friends.  Night  after  night 
he  repeated  the  sentiment  which  at  the  age  of  threescore 
years  he  expressed  in  a  public  prayer,  and  which  many  an 
ingenuous  youth  will  hereafter  read  with  a  tearful  eye: 
"God  in  mercy  keep  me,  by  thy  Spirit,  from  falling — from 
denying  the  Lord  that  bought  me,  and  from  refusing  to 
glory  in  the  cross  of  Christ!  A  poor,  dying  sinner  has 
no  other  hope  or  refuge  but  this;  and  to  forsake  his  last 
and  only  hope,  when  he  is  approaching  the  verge  of  eter- 
nity— would  be  dreadful  indeed !"  ' 

The  time  at  length  arrived  for  developing  the  influence 
of  his  communion  with  the  Teutonic  mind.  The  Unitarian 
faith  had  acquired  a  dominant  influence  in  our  common- 
wealth. Buckminster  and  Channing  had  commended  it 
by  the  graces  of  their  style,  and  by  the  beauties  of  their 
character.  The  celebrated  Baltimore  sermon  had  begun 
to  attract  a  general  admiration.  At  this  crisis.  Professor 
Stuart  published  his  Letters  to  Dr.  Channing.  The  first 
edition  was  exhausted  in  a  single  week.  Two  other  edi- 
tions rapidly  followed.  Four  or  five  were  soon  printed  in 
England,  with  the  highest  commendation.  His  opponents 
acknowledged  and  admired  his  learning.    His  friends  con- 

^  Christian  Review,  Vol.  VI.  pp.  455,  456. 
'  Ibid,  p.  460. 


MOSES   STUART  201 

fessed  their  error  in  resisting  his  German  progress.  They 
felt  the  importance  of  it  for  the  Church.  "No,"  said  the 
venerated  Porter  to  him,  "you  could  not  have  written 
that  volume  without  your  German  aid.  You  are  in  the 
right  in  this  matter,  and  your  friends  are  in  the  wrong; 
take  your  own  way  for  the  future." '  Before  this  contest 
of  the  intrepid  student,  scarcely  one  of  our  divines  was 
acquainted  with  German  literature.  He  has  made  it  com- 
mon. With  a  great  sum  he  obtained  for  us  this  freedom. 
For  it  he  endured  a  great  fight  of  afiflictions.  But  he 
fought  a  good  fight ;  and  he  kept  the  faith.  He  came  off 
a  conqueror  and  more  than  a  conqueror,  through  Him 
that  loved  him.  Thousands  of  trembling  Christians  now 
triumphed  in  their  strong  deliverance.  They  honored  him 
who  had  honored  Christ.  At  this  time  he  entered  upon 
a  career  of  popularity  as  a  scholar,  which  was  perhaps 
unexampled  in  our  religious  annals.  He  disapproved  of 
the  adulation  that  was  offered  him.  Such  encomiums 
ought  not  to  be  pronounced  upon  a  mortal. 

Flatteries,  however,  more  than  frowns  did  not  deter  him 
from  his  studies.  In  a  few  years  he  published  his  Com- 
mentary on  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  At  once  this 
work  was  honored  in  the  high  places  of  letters,  where  so 
few  of  our  theoloigical  treatises  had  been  previously  no- 
ticed. The  most  eminent  scholars  of  Great  Britain  have 
confessed  their  obligations  to  it.  The  North  American  Re- 
view predicted  that  it  would  be  translated  into  the  German 

^  Christian  Review,  Vol.  VI,  p.  458. 


202  MOSES   STUART 

language.^  It  was  lauded,  as  an  American  treatise  has  sel- 
dom been,  in  the  German  periodicals."  Within  five  years 
the  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans  followed 
that  on  the  Hebrews,  and  awakened  a  still  deeper  interest, 
not  only  among  critics,  but  also'  among  metaphysicians.  It 
is  unwonted  for  a  treatise  to  touch  so  many  salient  points 
in  the  creeds,  and  to  stir  up  so  many  classes  of  men.  It 
reached  the  hidden  springs  of  intellectual  and  of  moral  life. 
If  some  expositions  of  this  epistle  be  more  accurate  than 
his,  are  many  of  them  more  learned?  If  some  be  more 
learned  than  his,  are  many  of  them  more  accurate?  In 
originality  of  thought  and  feeling,  it  excels  those  by  which 
it  is  surpassed  in  logical  order  and  chaste  style.  It  exhibits 
no  more  of  piquant  idiom,  nor  of  good  sense,  nor  of  pious 
feeling  than  are  to  be  found  in  some  other  commentaries, 
but  it  exhibits  an  unusual  combination  of  these  excellences 
— of  thoughts  which  are  to  be  remembered,  with  phrases 
which  are  to  be  quoted.  The  erudite  and  pious  Tholuck 
commended  it  to  the  "learned  Germans,"  and  said :  "In 
preparing  this  work  its  author  was  able  to  avail  himself  of 
a  rich  exegetical  literature ;  he  himself  examined  every 
point  independently  and  carefully ;  his  remarks  bear  testi- 
mony to  a  keen  and  practiced  judgment ;  he  is  particularly 
careful  in  deciding  the  most  important  doctrinal  points  of 
the  epistle ;  and  what  is  in  the  highest  degree  attractive,  is 
the   Christian  mildness  and  moderation  which  he  every- 

^  North  American  Review,  Vol.  XXVIII,  p.  150. 

^  Although  the  preparation  of  this  commentary  cost  its  author 
years  of  toil,  yet  he  formed  the  plan  of  it  in  fifteen  minutes,  and 
wrote  the  entire  first  volume  with  a  single  quill. 


MOSES   STUART  203 

where  manifests ;  as  also  the  expression  of  his  warm  Chris- 
tian feehng  which  here  and  there  breaks  through."  ' 

No  sooner  had  our  departed  friend  completed  his  Expo- 
sition of  the  Romans,  than  he  began  his  Exposition  of  the 
Apocalypse.  With  what  enthusiasm  he  searched  into  the 
dark  sayings  uttered  on  Patmos,  his  exhilarated  pupils 
know  right  well.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  tones  almost  of 
inspiration  with  which  he  exclaimed:  "Oh,  that  I  might 
have  seen  Michael  Angelo  or  Guido,  and  besought  them 
to  transfer  to  the  canvas  three  or  four  scenes  which  John 
has  suggested  to  my  mind.  I  am  on  the  point  of  writing 
to  Washington  Allston  and  proposing  to  him  these  sub- 
jects for  his  pencil."  So  large  were  the  conceptions,  so 
vast  the  plans  of  our  many-sided  critic !  Whether  the  de- 
tails of  this,  which  he  regarded  as  his  most  elaborate  com- 
mentary, be  true  or  false,  it  will  effect  a  revolution  in  our 
mode  of  interpreting  the  prophetical  style.  Many  will  re- 
sort tO'  it  for  information,  if  they  will  not  admit  it  as  an 
authority.  Many  a  finished  treatise  will  be  cut  out  from  it, 
as  a  statue  from  a  marble  block.  It  is  a  pyramid  of  labor. 
One  of  its  most  eminent  opposers  has  said,  that  "if  it  were 
compressed  into  two-thirds  its  present  bulk,  it  alone  would 
bear  the  name  of  its  author  to  a  distant  age."  In  rapid 
succession  followed  this  veteran's  commentaries  on  Daniel 
and  Ecclesiastes ;  both  of  them  abounding  with  hints  and 
references  of  rare  worth.  On  his  seventy-second  birthday 
he  began  his  Exposition  of  the  Proverbs.  In  four  months 
it  was  prepared  for  the  press.    Five  weeks  before  his  death 

^  Literarischer  Anzeiger,   1834,  No.  22.  S.  170. 


204  MOSES   STUART 

he  fractured  his  arm  by  a  fall  upon  the  snow,  but  he  per- 
severed a  full  month  in  correcting,  with  his  lame  hand,  the 
proof-sheets  of  this  his  final  work,  and  sent  the  last  pages 
of  it  to  the  press  two  days  before  he  died.  During  his 
life  he  printed  more  than  twenty  volumes,  and  car- 
ried several  of  them  throug'h  the  second  and  third  edi- 
tions ;  and  whenever  he  republished  any  one  of  his  writings, 
he  verified  anew  its  accumulated  references  to  other  works. 
His  pamphlets  and  periodical  essays  occupy  more  than  two 
thousand  octavo  pages. '  All  the  labor  immediately  con- 
nected with  these  voluminous  publications  has  been  per- 
formed, amid  physical  pain,  during  three,  or  at  most,  three 
and  a  half  hours  of  each  day.  He  has  never  allowed  him- 
self to  engage  in  what  he  called  study,  for  a  longer  portion 
of  the  twenty-four  hours.  These  were  his  golden  hours. 
No  mortal  man  was  allowed  to  interrupt  them.  They  were 
his  sacred  hours.  He  was  wont  to  commence  them  with 
secret,  but  sometimes  audible  prayer,  and  occasionally 
with  chanting  a  psalm  of  David  in  the  original  Hebrew. 
While  in  his  study,  his  mind  moved  Hke  a  swift  ship.  He 
bounded  over  the  waves.  It  required  a  long  time  each  day 
to  repair  his  dismantled  frame,  his  exhausted  energies.  He 
made  all  his  pecuniary  interests,  all  his  plans  for  personal 
comfort,  all  his  social  enjoyments,  tributary  to  his  main 
business,  that  of  investigating  the  divine  Word."" 

^  Note  10  in  Appendix. 

*  During  a  large  part  of  his  professional  life  at  Andover,  he  would 
not  allow  himself  to  sit  in  his  study  chamber,  after  eleven  and  a  half 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  At  the  stated  minute,  even  if  he  were  at  the 
height  of  his  interest  in  a  theme,  he  would  leave  a  sentence  unfin- 
ished, drop  his  book  or  manuscript,  and  go  to  his  physical  exercise. 


MOSES   STUART  205 

But  although  his  writings  have  been  read  on  the  banks 
of  the  Mississippi  and  of  the  Danube,  it  is  not  by  them  that 
he  has  achieved  his  greatest  triumphs.  He  Hves  in  the 
souls  of  his  pupils.  He  has  stamped  an  image  upon  them. 
He  has  engraved  deep  lines  on  the  character  of  the 
churches  through  them.  Many  a  professor  in  our  colleges 
has  reiterated  the  saying,  "I  first  learned  to  think  under 
the  inspiration  of  Mr.  Stuart.  He  first  taught  me  how  to 
use  my  mind."  The  excellence  of  a  teacher  does  not  con- 
sist in  his  lodging  his  own  ideas  safely  in  the  remembrance 
of  his  pupils,  but  in  arousing  their  individual  powers  to  in- 
dependent action,  in  giving  them  vitality,  hope,  fervor, 
courage ;  in  dispelling  their  drowsiness  and  spurring  them 
onward  to  self-improvement.  The  vivacity  of  Mr.  Stuart 
when  he  met  his  pupils,  his  exuberance  of  anecdote,  his 
cjuick-thronging  illustrations,  his  alifluent,  racy  diction,  his 
vivid  portraiture  of  the  prominent  features  of  a  theme,  as- 

He  was  once  invited  to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony  for  two 
friends,  who  had  long  enjoyed  his  esteem.  He  desired  to  gratify 
them,  and  consented  to  do  so,  on  condition  of  their  having  the  cere- 
mony after  half  past  eleven  of  the  forenoon.  They  urged  him  to 
perform  it  at  ten.  "But  that  is  in  my  study-hours!"  was  his  reply, 
and.  of  course,  another  clergyman  was  called  to  the  service.  It 
will  not  be  surmised  that  Mr.  Stuart  was  divorced  from  books  dur- 
ing the  afternoon  and  evening  of  each  day.  His  pupils  were  early 
familiarized  to  his  distinction  between  "reading"  and  "studying." 
For  his  mental  relaxation,  he  was  daily  pursuing  books  of  geography, 
history,  biography,  literary  criticism,  etc.  Among  the  works  which 
he  "read"  in  his  parlor,  were  such  as  Brown's  Philosophy  of  the 
Mind,  Brown  on  Cause  and  Effect,  Bishop  Butler's  Sermons.  He 
interdicted  all  "study"  during  his  seminary  vacations,  but  in  the  five 
weeks'  recess  of  1841,  he  read  thirty  volumes  through.  He  exem- 
plified the  law,  that  change  of  mental  action  is  mental  rest.  The  ir- 
repressible instincts  of  his  mind  for  progress  in  knowledge,  illustrated 
the  reasoning  of  the  old  philosophers  for  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 


2o6  MOSES   STUART 

tonished  his  class,  and  animated  their  literary  zeal.  If  all 
his  writings  had  been  burned  in  manuscript,  the  prepara- 
tion of  them  in  his  own  mind  would  have  been  a  sufificient 
publication  of  them,  through  the  minds  of  his  scholars.  By 
his  enthusiasm  in  elaborating  them,  he  disciplined  himself 
for  his  oral  instruction.  Daily  he  went  from  the  scene  of 
their  influence  to  his  class-room.  His  words  in  the  after- 
noon betokened  his  morning  struggles,  and  quick  was  the 
sympathy  which  they  awakened.  He  verified  the  adage, 
that  instructors  must  be  learners,  and  they  cease  to  impart 
when  they  cease  to  acquire.  The  fresh,  versatile,  easy,  open- 
hearted  way  in  which  he  discoursed  before  his  scholars  on 
'every  science  and  every  art,  raised  their  admiration  of  him 
often  to  an  excess.  Some  of  them  almost  looked  upon  him 
as  a  being  from  a  higher  world.  The  hour  when  they  first 
saw  him  was  a  kind  of  epoch  in  their  history.  "Never  shall 
I  forget  my  first  interview  with  him,"  has  been  said  by  hun- 
dreds of  young  men.  No  teacher  in  the  land  ever  attracted 
to  himself  so  many  theological  pupils.  The  number  of  our 
alumni  is  eleven  hundred  and  eleven.  But  the  number  of 
his  scholars  has  been  more  than  fifteen  hundred.  Men 
came  to  him  from  the  Canadas,  from  Georgia,  and  the 
farthest  West.  Members  of  eight  dififering  sects  congre- 
gated around  him,  and  did  one  ever  suspect  him  of  a  prose- 
lyting spirit?  They  loved  his  freedom  in  dissenting  from 
their  views,  but  perhaps  no  man  who  knew  him  ever  stig- 
matized him  as  a  sectarian.  More  than  seventy  of  his  pu- 
pils have  been  the  presidents  or  professors  of  our  highest 
literary  institutions ;  and  in  their  persons  he  has  given  an 


MOSES   STUART  207 

impulse  to  classical  study  among  the  colleges  of  our  land. 
Nowhere  is  he  more  gratefully  remembered  than  in  our 
halls  of  science/  More  than  a  hundred  of  his  disciples 
have  been  missionaries  to  the  heathen ;  about  thirty  of 
them  have  been  engaged  in  translating  the  Bible  into  for- 
eign languages,  and  have  borne  the  results  of  his  grammat- 
ical study  to  men  who  are  to  be  civilized  by  means  of  it. 
It  cheered  his  declining  years  to  reflect  that  he  had  been 
preaching  the  gospel,  through  his  missionary  pupils,  in 
ancient  Nineveh  and  under  the  shadow  of  Ararat,  as  well 
as  amid  the  wilds  of  Oregon,  and  on  the  islands  of  the 
sea. 

The  great  work  of  Mr.  Stuart  may  be  summed  up  in  a 
few  words.  He  found  theology  under  the  dominion  of  an 
iron-handed  metaphysics.  For  ages  had  the  old  scholastic 
philosophy  pressed  down  the  free  meaning  of  inspiration. 
His  first  and  last  aim  was,  to  disenthrall  the  Word  of  life 
from  its  slavery  to  an  artificial  logic.  He  made  no  words 
more  familiar  to  his  pupils  than:  "The  Bible  is  the  only  and 
sufficient  rule  of  faith  and  practice."  In  his  creed  the  Bible 
was  first,  midst,  last,  highest,  deepest,  broadest.  He  spoke 
sometimes  in  terms  too  disparaging  of  theological  systems. 
But  it  was  for  the  sake  of  exalting  above  them  the  doc- 
trines of  John  and  Paul.  He  read  the  scholastic  divines, 
but  he  studied  the  prophets  and  apostles.  He  introduced 
among  us  a  new  era  of  Biblical  interpretation.  The  Puri- 
tan fathers  of  New  England  were  familiar  with  the  Greek 
and  Hebrew  tongues ;  but  they  never  devoted  themselves 

^  Note  II,  in  Appendix. 


2o8  MOSES  STUART 

to  the  original  Scriptures  with  that  freshness  of  interest 
which  he  exhibited,  that  vividness  of  biographical  and  geo^ 
graphical  detail,  that  sympathy  with  the  personal  and  do- 
mestic life  of  inspired  men,  that  ideal  presence  of  the  scenes 
once  honored  by  our  Redeemer,  that  freedom  from  the 
trammels  of  a  prescriptive  philosophy  or  immemorial  cus- 
tom. Because  he  has  done  so  much  and  suffered  so  much, 
in  persuading  men  to  interpret  the  Bible,  not  according  to 
the  letter,  but  the  spirit,  not  in  subjection  to  human  stand- 
ards, but  in  compliance  with  its  own  analogies,  not  by  con- 
jectures of  what  it  ought  to  mean,  but  by  grammatical  and 
historical  proofs  of  what  it  does  mean,  he  has  received  and 
deserved  the  name  of  our  patriarch  in  sacred  philology. 
Several  weeks  before  he  was  publicly  named  for  the  pro- 
fessorship which  he  afterwards  adorned,  a  sagacious  ob- 
server remarked  to  him  incidentally :  "You,  of  all  men 
whom  I  know,  are  just  the  man  for  that  professorship. 
Biblical  Literature  is  now  at  a  low  ebb  throughout  the  coun- 
try, but  if  you  were  to  teach  it  at  Andover,  you  would  make 
the  students  there  believe,  in  three  months,  that  Sacred 
Criticism  is  as  necessary  to  the  successful  progress  of  a  the- 
ologian, as  air  is  to  the  support  of  animal  life."  For  more 
than  forty  years,  the  man  who  uttered  this  prophecy  has 
been  an  instructor  in  one  of  our  most  enterprising  col- 
leges, and  he  is,  perhaps,  more  familiar  than  any  living  man 
with  the  history  of  our  philological  literature,  and  he  now 
writes :  "No  one  has  rejoiced  more  heartily  than  myself  at 
the  success  which  has  attended  Mr.  Stuart  in  his  ofifice  at 
Andover.     He  has  done  a  work  there,  and  in  the  whole  of 


MOSES   STUART  209 

our  country,  which  no  other  man,  as  I  beheve,  could  have 
accompHshed.  Those  who  have  come  forward  as  theologi- 
cal students  within  the  last  thirty-five  or  forty  years,  can 
form  but  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  the  difficulties  which  he 
had  to  encounter  at  first.  But  he  seemed  not  to  regard 
them,  and  they  disappeared." 

As  it  was  the  aim  of  Mr.  Stuart  to  present  theology  in 
a  Biblical  form,  so  it  was  one  of  his  chief  aims  to  exalt  the 
doctrine  of  a  Saviour's  atoning  death.  One  of  his  review- 
ers, the  devout  and  quick-sighted  Tholuck,  has  said  of  him : 
"In  respect  of  his  theological  views,  he  believes  in  all  the 
fundamental  doctrines  of  the  Christian  Church  of  the  Re- 
formed [Calvinistic]  confession.  In  these  his  extensive 
study  of  German  literature  has  in  no  degree  shaken  his 
faith ;  though  it  should  seem  to  have  exercised  an  influence 
upon  his  method  of  establishing  them.  He  forsakes  the 
ways  prescribed  by  those  of  the  same  faith,  and  the  dog- 
matic interpreters  of  his  own  church,  and  seeks  new  paths ; 
being  led  to  this  sometimes  because  scruples  have  occurred 
to  him,  which  were  unknown  to  them."  ^  In  a  new  path, 
however,  or  in  a  beaten  one,  he  never  went  away  from  the 
scene  where  his  Lord  was  crucified.  Lutheran  or  Re- 
formed, either,  or  both,  or  neither,  he  was  determined  to 
know  nothing  among  men,  save  Jesus  Christ  and  him  cru- 
cified. Firm,  indeed,  was  his  faith  in  the  sovereignty,  the 
decrees,  the  universal  providence  of  Jehovah.  But  these 
were  not  the  heart  of  his  theology.  In  his  view,  all  other 
truths  clustered  around  the  doctrine  of  redemption.     To 

^  Literarischer  Anzeiger,  1834,  Ko.  22.  S.  169. 


2IO  MOSES   STUART 

make  this  doctrine  prominent,  he  would  depress  any  for- 
mula invented  by  man.  Around  the  cross  he  gathered  all 
his  learning.  At  the  foot  of  the  cross  he  strewed  his  many 
honors.  Here  his  quick-moving,  his  indomitable  spirit 
lingered  in  a  childlike  peace.  If  men  trusted  in  the  Re- 
deemer, they  were  welcomed  to  his  sympathy,  let  them  err 
as  they  might  on  the  metaphysical  theories  of  religion. 
And  when  he  uttered  censures,  too  severe  perhaps,  upon 
the  abstractions  of  our  divines,  it  seemed  to  be  not  that  he 
loved  philosophy  less,  for  he  aspired  after  a  true  philos- 
ophy, but  that  he  loved  Jesus  more. 

Several  years  ago,  I  heard  him  say  incidentally :  "No 
greater  injury  can  be  done  me,  than  to  hold  me  up  as  fault- 
less in  my  mode  of  thinking  and  living."  The  thought 
never  occurred  to  my  own  mind,  until  three  days  algo,  that 
I  should  be  called  to  heed  this  admonition  while  standing 
over  his  bier.  He  was  not  faultless.  The  sun  never  shone 
on  all  parts  of  the  same  body  at  one  and  the  same  time. 
If  it  illumine  one  side,  it  must  leave,  the  other  shaded.  But 
the  frailties  of  our  revered  friend  were  intimately  combined 
with  his  excellences.  The  former  suggest  the  latter.  If  he 
made  minor  mistakes,  it  was  because  he  gazed  too  stead- 
fastly at  the  great  principles  of  things.  In  the  celerity  of 
his  thought,  he  was  sometimes  led  to  overlook  important 
incidents.  Did  he  commit  errors  which  he  had  the  power 
to  avoid?  It  was  because  he  seized  upon  pressing  exigen- 
cies, and  hurried  forward  to^  meet  the  demands  of  the  peo- 
ple. He  launched  his  vessel  when  the  tide  was  up.  It  is 
one  characteristic  of  true  genius  to  find  out,  and  then  to 


MOSES   STUART  211 

meet  the  crisis ;  to  put  forth  the  influence  which  is  de- 
manded, and  when  it  is  demanded  by  the  occasion.  Mr. 
Stuart  was  always  at  the  post  of  danger.  When  the  Educa- 
tion Society  was  attacked,  he  was  at  once  upon  the  ground. 
When  the  cause  of  temperance  was  assailed,  he  was  speed- 
ily in  the  field.  When  the  laws  of  hygiene  were  discussed, 
his  essays  were  in  the  newspapers  forthwith.  Did  he  make 
more  inaccurate  statements  than  some  other  men?  And 
did  he  not  utter  many  more  truths  than  most  other  men? 
The  most  luxuriant  tree  needs  most  to  be  pruned.  Habit- 
ually was  his  mind  on  useful  themes.  Sometimes  this, 
sometimes  that,  but  always  one  important  idea  was  re- 
volving before  him.  When  the  missionary  Judson,  on  his 
recent  visit  to  this  place,  came  out  from  the  chamber  of 
our  departed  friend,  he  said,  with  a  full  emphasis,  what  has 
been  repeated  by  many  a  pilgrim  on  the  threshold  of  that 
same  chamber :  'T  feel  that  I  have  been  conversing  with  a 
great  man."  In  Mr.  Stuart's  conversation  with  a  farmer, 
he  imparted  new  ideas  on  the  implements  of  husbandry.  To 
the  mechanic,  he  often  seemed  to  have  learned  the  trades. 
To  the  merchant,  he  gave  instruction  on  political  economy. 
To  the  philanthropist,  he  proposed  new  schemes  of  benefi- 
cence. Medical  men  were  often  surprised  at  the  extent  of 
his  reading  in  their  own  department.  If  there  were  better 
metaphysicians  than  he,  more  accurate  classical  scholars, 
more  correct  historians,  more  profound  statesmen — as 
there  doubtless  were — still,  where  is  the  man  who  knew 
so  much  of  philology  and  philosophy  mid  history  and  prac- 
tical life,  all  combined — who  had  so  many  knowledges  of 


212  MOSES  STUART 

such  multifarious  things,  and  appHed  them  all  to  a  better 
purpose?  If  there  be  such  a  man  (and  there  may  be  such), 
I  am  too  ignorant  to  have  learned  his  name. 

We  look  for  no  perfect  one  on  earth ;  and  had  the  master 
who  is  taken  from  our  head  to-day,  been  more  punctiliously- 
accurate,  he  would  have  been  less  impulsive ;  and  had  he 
been  less  impulsive,  he  would  not  have  stirred  up  the  mind 
of  the  clergy;  and  had  he  not  aroused  men  to  Biblical 
studies,  he  would  not  have  fulfilled  his  mission;  for  his 
mission  was  to  be  a  pioneer,  to  break  up  a  hard  soil,  to  do 
a  rough  work,  to  introduce  other  laborers  into  the  vine- 
yard which  he  had  made  ready.  If,  then,  he  lapsed  here 
and  there  in  sacred  literature,  who  are  the  men  among  us 
that  correct  him?  Chiefly,  the  men  who  are  in  some  way 
indebted  to  him  for  the  power  to  make  the  correction. 
Chiefly,  the  men  who  have  received  from  him  the  impul- 
ses by  which  they  have  learned  to  criticize  him.  Chiefly, 
the  men  who  would  have  remained  on  the  dead  level 
of  an  empirical  philology,  had  they  not  been  quickened 
to  an  upward  progress  by  his  early  enthusiasm.  If  the 
eagle  in  his  flight  toward  the  sun,  be  wounded  by  the 
archer,  the  arrow  that  is  aimed  at  him  is  guided  by  a  feather 
from  the  eagle's  own  broad  wing. 

He  who  now  lies  before  us  had  faults  of  character.  But 
he  might  have  concealed  them,  if  he  had  possessed  more 
cunning  and  less  frankness.  He  was  ready  to  acknowledge 
his  errors.  Had  he  been  adroit  in  hiding  them,  he  would 
not  have  been  a  man  of  progress,  nor  that  transparent, 
open-hearted  man  who  won  to  himself  the  general  love. 


MOSES   STUART  213 

Spreading  himself  out  over  various  departments,  he  was 
free  in  his  speech  upon  them  all.  Had  he  not  been  thus  ad- 
venturous, he  would  not  have  roused  so  many  classes  of 
minds  to  such  diversified  activity.  He  wore  a  glass  before 
his  heart.  He  spoke  what  he  felt.  We  know,  and  the  world 
knows  the  worst  of  him !  and  this  is  his  highest  praise.  He 
had  no  hidden  mine  of  iniquity.  His  foibles  do  not  lie 
buried  beneath  our  soundings.  But  it  is  no  common  virtue 
which  is  honored  in  every  farmer's  cottage  of  the  town 
where  he  has  lived  for  two  and  forty  years,  and  which  is 
venerated  by  missionaries  of  the  cross  on  Lebanon  and  at 
Damascus.  I  have  heard  him  praised  by  Tholuck,  and  Ne- 
ander,  and  Henderson,  and  Chalmers,  and  by  an  Irish  la- 
borer, and  a  servant  boy  and  by  the  families  before  whose 
windows  he  has  taken  his  daily  walks  for  almost  half  a  cen- 
tury. His  influence  as  a  divine  is  to  be  widened  and  pro- 
longed by  the  fact  that  on  the  hills  and  in  the  valleys  around 
his  dwelling,  there  is  neither  man  nor  woman  nor  child,  who 
has  known  him,  and  does  not  feel  that  an  honest  Christian 
rests  from  his  labors, — an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  was  no 
guile. 

The  old  age  of  Mr.  Stuart  honored  God  in  illustrating 
the  wealth  of  the  inspired  Word.  In  his  sixty-seventh  year, 
he  read  all  the  tragedies  of  .^'^schylus,  for  the  sake  of  detect- 
ing idioms  and  allusions  explanatory  of  the  Bible.  There 
were  three  hours  in  every  day,  when  he  forgot  all  the  pains 
of  advancing  years,  and  all  the  turmoils  of  the  world.  More 
than  once,  with  his  wonted  vivacity,  has  he  repeated  the  sen- 
timent of  Heinsius :  'T  no  sooner  come  into  my  library,  than 


214  MOSES   STUART 

I  bolt  the  door  after  me,  excluding  ambition,  avarice,  and 
all  such  vices,  and  in  the  very  lap  of  eternity,  amidst  so 
many  divine  souls,  I  take  my  seat  with  so  lofty  a  spirit  and 
such  sweet  content,  that  I  pity  all  the  great  and  rich  who 
know  not  this  happiness."  A  few  years  ago,  when  he  made 
a  certain  discovery  with  regard  to  the  book  of  Job,  he  could 
not  sleep  for  more  than  thirty-six  hours.  They  were  hours 
of  a  grateful  interest  in  the  wonders  of  the  Bible.  At  his 
death,  he  had  formed  the  plan  for  several  commentaries 
which  would  have  engrossed  three  years  of  his  time.'  His 
solace  was  in  the  Book  of  books.  It  never  tired  him.  Not 
seldom  was  it  his  meditation  all  the  night.  It  presented  to 
him  exhaustless  stores.  Near  the  end  of  his  life  he  ex- 
pressed a  religious  gratitude  that  the  Hebrew  language  had 
become  to  him  like  his  mother  tongue,  and  that  the  simple 
reading  of  the  Hebrew  text  opened  the  sense  of  passages 
which  had  before  been  closed  against  him.  When  asked 
whether  he  retained  his  confidence  in  the  great  system  of 
truths  which  he  had  defended,  he  answered  with  a  strong 
emphasis :  "Yes."  Have  you  any  doubts  with  regard  to 
your  former  principles  ?  was  the  question ;  and  the  energetic 
answer  was  given  at  once,  "No."  As  he  approached  the 
grave,  he  became  more  and  more  hopeful  that  these  prin- 
ciples would  soon  triumph  over  all  opposition.  "I  have 
long  since  learned,"  he  said,  "that  feelings  in  religious  ex- 
perience are  deceptive.     I  look  mainly  to  my  life  for  my 

^  He  intended  to  write  soon  a  second  exposition  of  the  book  of 
Proverbs.  It  was  to  be  popular  in  its  character.  Its  plan  was  ad- 
mirable. He  recently  collected  the  materials  for  an  exposition  of  the 
book  of  Jonah,  and  also  for  the  book  of  Job.  He  left  written  notes 
on  the  Epistles  to  the  Corinthians. 


MOSES   STUART  215 

evidence.  I  think  that  my  first  aim  in  life  has  been  to  glo- 
rify God,  and  that  I  have  been  ready  to  labor  and  suffer  for 
him."  When  afflicted  with  severe  pains,  he  loved  to  repeat 
the  words,  "Wearisome  days  and  nights  hast  Thou  ap- 
pointed unto  me."  He  had  thought  of  death  long  and  care- 
fully. He  was  familiar  with  it.  He  was  ready  for  it.  It  was 
less  to  him  than  a  Sabbath  day's  journey.  "This  is  the  be- 
ginning of  the  end,"  was  his  placid  remark  with  regard  to 
his  broken  arm,  and  after  alluding  to  the  pains  which  it 
caused  him,  he  added :  "Such  troubles  make  the  peaceful 
asylum  of  the  narrow  house  look  very  inviting."  When  he 
heard  the  hope  expressed  that  his  last  sickness  would  be 
unto  life  and  not  unto  death,  he  replied,  "Unto  the  glory  of 
God,  but  unto  death  ...  I  am  prepared  to  die.  O  God,  my 
spirit  is  in  thy  hand !  Have  mercy,  but  thy  will  be  done." 
On  the  first  Sabbath  of  the  New  Year,  when  the  storm 
was  howling  around  his  dwelling,  he  fell  asleep.  Peaceful, 
as  to  a  night's  repose,  he  entered  on  his  long  rest.^ 

Hearing  of  a  severe  personal  affliction,  he  once  said,  in 
the  language  of  Beza  after  the  death  of  Calvin :  "Now  is  life 
less  sweet  and  death  less  bitter."  So  may  that  venerable 
matron  say,  now  that  the  companion  of  her  youth  has  been 
taken  up  out  of  her  sight.  Let  her  honor  God,  that  she  has 
been  allowed  to  alleviate  the  cares  of  one,  who  has  enabled 
so  many  missionaries  of  the  cross  to  translate  the  Bible  for 
the  untutored  Indian,  and  the  learned  Brahmin.  Let  her 
be  thankful  that  she  has  been  permitted  so  to  order  her 
house,  that  light  has  radiated  from  it  upon  the  banks  of  the 

*  Note  12,  in  Appendix. 


2i6  MOSES   STUART 

Ilissus  and  the  Euphrates.  Some  of  the  most  important 
volumes  which  the  disciples  of  her  husband  have  given  to 
the  world,  are  prefaced  with  the  significant  and  amiable  an- 
nouncement, that  they  were  written  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family.^  Her  domestic  cares  have  been  for  the  Church. 
Her  household  arrangements  have  been  made  for  the  cul- 
ture of  mind.  They  have  ministered  to  the  comfort  of  one 
who  has  now,  as  we  suppose,  been  welcomed  to  the  school 
of  the  prophets  and  the  apostles  by  more  than  two  hundred 
of  his  ascended  pupils.  Then  let  her  exclaim,  as  she  has 
often  heard  her  departed  husband  exclaim  in  this  sacred 
place :  "Blessing,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto 
him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb,  for 
ever  and  ever." 

And  the  children  of  our  deceased  father  will  mourn  most 
of  all,  because  they  have  lost  their  opportunities  for  easing 
the  toils  of  him  who  delighted  in  toiling  for  them.  They 
cannot  weep  for  the  dead.  They  know  his  fitness  for  that 
world  where  his  active  spirit  has  found  a  congenial  element, 
and  where  all  his  activity  is  rest.  They  have  often  wit- 
nessed his  aspirations  to  see  the  old  prophets,  on  whose 
words  he  had  lingered  so  long.  They  have  often  observed 
his  exultation  at  the  thought  of  meeting  Isaiah  and  Jere- 
miah, of  conversing  with  Paul  on  the  depth  and  the  height, 
the  length  and  the  breadth ;  and  of  beholding  the  face  of 

^  A  volume  of  meaning  is  beautifully  compressed  in  Dr.  Robin- 
son's dedication  of  his  Biblical  Researches :  "To  the  Rev.  Moses 
Stuart,  Professor  of  Sacred  Literature  in  the  Andover  Theological 
Seminary,  these  volumes,  the  fruits  of  studies  begun  in  the  bosom 
of  his  family,  are  respectfully  inscribed,  as  a  token  of  grateful 
acknowledgment  on  the  part  of  a  pupil  and  friend." 


MOSES   STUART  217 

John,  whom  he  had  almost  seen  in  vision  here  below.  Let 
them  be  thankful  for  his  present  communion  with  the  Man 
of  sorrows,  whom  he  has  longed  to  see  face  to  face,  and  in 
whose  presence  he  has  hoped  to  enjoy  eternal  health. 

And  while  we  unite  our  prayers  for  the  children  of  our 
revered  friend,  we  must  remember  his  spiritual  sons,  who 
are  scattered  throughout  the  wide  world,  from  the  prairies 
of  Wisconsin  to  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus.  In  Canton 
and  under  Table  Mountain,  in  Ceylon  and  at  Jerusalem, 
they  will  feel  that  they  have  lost  a  father.  We  are  the  be- 
reaved children  of  a  scattered  family.  We  have  received 
impulses  from  him,  which  will  afifect  us  through  our  eternal 
life.  Then  let  us  honor  him  by  a  new  love  to  that  Volume 
which  he  prized  more  and  more  unto  his  dying  hour,  and 
by  remembering  with  a  new  affection  those  words  of  his 
which  we  have  all  read :  "When  I  behold  the  glory  of  the 
Saviour,  as  revealed  in  the  gospel,  I  am  constrained  to  cry 
out  with  the  believing  apostle.  My  Lord  and  my  God !  And 
when  my  departing  spirit  shall  quit  these  mortal  scenes,  and 
wing  its  way  to  the  world  unknown,  with  my  latest  breath, 
I  desire  to  pray,  as  the  expiring  martyr  did.  Lord  Jesus, 
receive  my  spirit," '  'T  ask  for  no  other  privilege  on  earth, 
but  to  make  known  the  efficacy  of  his  death ;  and  none  in 
heaven,  but  to  be  associated  with  those  who  ascribe  salva- 
tion to  his  blood.    Amen."  * 

*  Conclusion  of  his  Letters  to  Channing. 

'  Conclusion  of  his  Two  Sermons  on  the  Atonement. 


PROP^ESSOR  I'ARK  AT  50 


THE  DIVIDING  LINE 


THE  DIVIDING  LINE 

"If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  in  this  thy  day,  the  things 
■which  belong  unto  thy  peace!  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes. 

"For  the  days  shall  come  upon  thee,  that  thine  enemies  shall  cast  a 
trench  about  thee,  and  compass  thee  round,  and  keep  thee  in  on  every 
side, 

"And  shall  lay  thee  even  with  the  ground,  and  thy  children  within 
thee;  and  they  shall  not  leave  in  thee  one  stone  upon  another;  because 
thou  knewest  not  the  time  of  thy  visitation." — Luke  19 :  42-44, 

When  a  seaman  crosses  the  equator,  he  is  as  listless  as 
if  he  were  crossing  any  other  line  on  the  ocean,  and  knows 
not  that  he  has  moved  suddenly  out  of  the  northern  into 
the  southern  hemisphere.  Men  pass  over  the  tropic  of  Can- 
cer or  the  tropic  of  Capricorn  and  discern  no  mark  distin- 
guishing the  one  side  from  the  other.  Could  we  go  to  the 
Arctic  or  the  Antarctic  pole,  we  should  perceive  no  monu- 
ment of  the  spot,  and  should  walk  or  sail  over  it  as  if  it 
were  any  common  point  on  land  or  the  sea.  The  beginnings 
of  all  things  are  in  darkness,  in  time  as  well  as  in  space.  We 
can  easily  determine  whether  it  be  near  noon  or  whether  it 
be  near  midnight ;  but  not  when  the  first  dawn  of  day  arises, 
nor  whether  the  first  shade  of  night  has  fallen.  The  tide 
flows,  and  we  have  no  doubt  that  it  is  rising ;  it  ebbs,  and  we 
have  no  doubt  that  it  is  falling,  but  we  are  in  doubt  with 
regard  to  the  precise  line  which  divides  the  flowing  from  the 
ebbing  tide. 


222  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

This  action  of  the  waters  is  an  emblem  of  our  own  secular 

pursuits. 

"There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune ; 
Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 
Is  bound  in  shallows  and  in  miseries." 

But  the  boundary  point  between  the  coming  in  and  the 
going  out  of  this  tide  is  imperceptible.  The  boy  leaves  his 
rural  home,  struggles  through  his  clerkship  in  the  city  store, 
breasts  the  adverse  waves  of  business  life,  and  while  remain- 
ing without  a  reputation,  without  credit,  without  friends,  he 
consumes  his  days  in  anxiety,  and  his  nights  are  restless ; 
but  as  soon  as  he  doubles  a  certain  cape,  the  tide  and  breeze 
favor  him.  He  knows  about  where,  but  not  exactly  where, 
that  cape  lies.    It  is  lost  in  the  fog. 

The  statesman  often  speaks  of  the  turn  in  his.  fortune. 
For  a  long  period  he  rose,  and  could  not  tell  why ;  he  wea- 
ried himself  to  detect  the  precise  hour  at  which  his  star 
ceased  to  be  in  the  ascendant ;  he  only  knows  that  about  this 
hour,  or  about  that  hour,  he  began  to  move  downward,  and 
then  all  things  conspired  to  hasten  his  fall.  Napoleon  at  St. 
Helena  remarked  that  fortune  smiled  upon  him  up  to  about 
the  time  of  his  divorce  from  Josephine,  and  somewhere  near 
that  event  his  star  grew  pale,  and  the  very  men  who  had 
favored  him  so  long  as  he  was  moving  upward,  turned 
against  him  just  so  soon  as  he  began  to  move  downward. 
We  have  often  seen  an  allegory  of  human  Hfe  as  we  have 
traveled  over  a  mountain  range ;  we  could  not  be  certain 
that  we  had  found  the  very  spot  of  the  watershed,  and  we 
thought  that  we  had  entered  on  our  descending  course  be- 


THE   DIVIDING    LINE  223 

fore  we  had  really  attained  the  highest  point,  or,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  seemed  as  if  Alps  o'er  Alps  were  rising  above 
us  after  we  had  passed  the  summit  of  the  range.  Three 
years  ago,  a  traveler  among  the  White  Mountains,  sur- 
prised by  the  coming  on  of  night,  attempted  to  reach  the 
house  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Washington ;  he  groped 
his  way  along  the  path  which  lies  a  few  rods  from  the  cot- 
tage; the  windows  were  lighted,  but  he  could  not  discern 
them  through  the  fog,  and  he  passed  along  unheeding,  and 
suddenly  he  perceived  that  he  had  gone  one-third  of  the 
way  down  the  mountain  from  the  quiet  house  where  he 
hoped  to  enjoy  a  night's  repose. 

The  time  of  the  beginning  of  our  latest  disease  is  gen- 
erally hidden  from  us.  It  is  the  ceaseless  mystery  of  life 
that  we  may  be  every  day  and  every  hour  walking  on  the 
edge  of  some  disorder  which  is  sure  to  end  in  death.  With- 
out any  suspicion  of  it,  we  step  over  that  edge ;  we  cannot 
discern  that  anything  unusual  has  occurred,  yet  our  doom 
for  this  world  is  sealed.  Often  men  imagine  themselves  to 
have  acquired  new  vigor,  when  they  have  only  received  a 
new  excitement,  which  is  soon  to  waste  them  away.  There 
is  a  flush  of  the  cheek  and  a  sparkling  of  the  eye,  looking 
like  the  signs  of  rosy  health.  The  leaves  of  the  rose  look 
fresh  long  after  the  fibers  underground  have  begun  to  de- 
cay. The  disease  of  the  root  is  hidden  in  the  earth,  and 
the  buds  come  out  too  soon,  for  the  reason  that  the  plant 
is  soon  to  wither.  There  is  a  particular  degree  of  expo- 
sure to  the  snow  and  the  storm  which  invigorates  the  ani- 
mal system.     If  that  degree  be  not  reached,  the  body  is 


224  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

frail,  and  will  ere  long  break  down.  If  that  degree  be 
exceeded  one  iota,  the  stoutest  frame  becomes  like  the 
flower,  which  the  wind  passeth  ovier  and  it  is  gone.  In 
September,  1839,  ^  "^^^  ^^  Mount  Vernon  Major  Lewis, 
a  nephew  of  General  Washington.  Forty,  years  before, 
in  December,  1799,  he  visited  the  general  at  Mount  Ver- 
non, and  wrote  concerning  him :  "The  clear  and  healthy 
blush  on  his  cheek  and  his  sprightly  manner  brought  the 
remark  from  both  myself  and  my  friend,  'We  had  never 
seen  the  general  look  so  well.'"  A  very  few  days  after 
jthis  promise  of  long  life,  on  the  twelfth  of  that  same 
December  the  ex-President  started  forth,  at  ten  in  the 
morning,  to  ride  over  his  farm.  "About  one  o'clock," 
he  coolly  remarks  in  his  diary,  "it  began  to  snow,  soon 
after  to  hail,  and  then  turned  to  a  settled  cold  rain."  Dur- 
ing the  two  hours  Jrom  about  one  o'clock  to  about  three, 
the  sturdy  warrior  remained  in  this  exposure  to  the  storm. 
After  he  had  left  the  saddle  and  entered  his  mansion,  his 
secretary,  perceiving  that  the  snow  was  clinging  to  his  hair 
behind,  expressed  a  fear  that  his  neck  must  be  wet.  He 
said,  "It  is  not."  And  what  if  it  had  been?  He  was  the  hero 
of  many  a  battle-field  and  had  braved  many  a  storm  in 
the  open  camp.  There  was  no  danger,  he  supposed.  He 
did  not  know  that  at  some  one  moment  during  those 
last  two  hours  he  had  let  into  his  system  a  disease  which 
would  never  go  out.  He  did  not  know  that  in  less  than 
three  days  his  widow  was  to  exclaim:  "All  is  over  now; 
I  shall  soon  follow  him!"  Five  hours  before  his  death 
he  said:    "I  believed  from  the  first  attack  that  I  should 


THE   DIVIDING    LINE  225 

not  survive  it."  But  he  did  not  know  when  his  first  attack 
commenced;  five  hours  before  what  he  termed  his  first  at- 
tack, while  he  was  sitting-  erect  upon  his  steed,  he  went  over 
the  mysterious  Hne  which  he  could  never  recross. 

There  is  a  particular  degree  of  repose  which  gives  health 
to  the  body,  and  a  certain  degree  of  amusement  which  fits 
it  for  redoubled  labor.  If  that  degree  be  not  attained,  the 
body  wilts  like  the  grass  that  groweth  up  in  the  morning; 
if  that  degree  be  passed  one  hair's  breadth  the  seeds  of  dis- 
ease may  be  sown  in  the  system ;  they  grow  in  silence  until 
of  a  sudden  they  bring  forth  death  in  their  fruit.  Precisely 
what,  precisely  where  this  degree  is,  is  not  known  to 
the  jocund  youth  who  beguiles  the  evening  in  the  dance, 
and  amid  the  cheer  of  laughter  and  song,  and  afterward 
steps  out  into  the  cold  night  air.  The  complexion  becomes 
delicate ;  the  friends  wonder  why  the  fingers  become  taper- 
ing; the  friends  ascribe  it  to  this  cause  and  that  cause,  and 
do  not  dream  that  when  the  threshold  of  the  festive  hall 
was  crossed,  then  was  crossed  the  boundary  of  that  pathw,ay 
which  leads  straight  down  to  the  grave. 

While  in  seeming  health  a  youth  is  surprised  by  a  pain- 
ful item  of  intelligence ;  he  knows  that  he  is  sad,  but  does 
not  imagine  that  in  the  hearing  of  those  grievous  words  he 
crosses  the  fatal  line.  He  reads  a  sentence  in  the  newspa- 
per ;  he  is  startled,  but  does  not  regard  himself  as  very  sor- 
rowful ;  still  at  the  moment  of  his  sudden  grief  he  stealthily 
passes  the  crisis  of  his  life.  The  neighbors  ascribe  his  mal- 
ady to  an  imprudent  exposure.  No.  The  malady  stole  in 
with   the   sudden  and   secret  grief.    Many  a  mother  has 


226  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

looked  upon  her  child  fading  away  in  the  very  blooming 
time  of  youth,  and  has  sighed  out  the  words:  "If  thou  hadst 
known  when  thy  disease  was  gathering  itself  up  to  assail 
thee !  but  the  moment  was  hidden  from  thine  eyes,  and:  now 
the  day  has  come  for  thy  going  from  me, — because  thou 
knewest  not  the  time  of  thy  visitation." 

On  the  thirteenth  of  July  at  12  o'clock  in  the  year  1842, 
the  duke  of  Orleans,  the  man  on  whom  the  destinies  of 
France  depended,  was  to  leave  Paris  for  St.  Omer  in  a  four- 
wheeled  carriage,  drawn  by  two  horses.  Before  he  entered 
his  carriage,  he  partook  of  what  he  supposed  to  be  an  in- 
nocent repast  with  his  family  friends.  He  was  a  temperate 
man,  was  probably  never  intoxicated,  and  now  had  no 
thought  of  exhilarating  himself  beyond  the  line  of  discre- 
tion ;  but  he  drank  a  few  drops  more  of  the  wine  than  was 
consistent  with  his  entire  self-possession.  In  about  a  half 
hour  afterward,  when  the  horses  took  fright  and  the  pos- 
tilion became  unable  to  master  them,  the  prince,  more  ani- 
mated than  prudent,  "put  his  foot  on  the  step  which  was 
near  the  ground,"  and  leaped  from  the  cabriolet.  Had  not 
his  pulse  been  unduly  quickened  by  those  few  supernumer- 
ary drops  of  wine,  he  would  have  taken  a  safer  counsel  and 
remained  in  the  carriage.  In  leaping  from  it,  he  fell ;  was 
instantly  insensible;  and  at  half  after  four  o'clock  on  that 
afternoon  expired  in  the  arms  of  Louis  Philippe,  his  father. 
At  that  genial  repast  he  went  beyond  the  edge  of  safety, 
and  knew  not  that  he  had  entered  the  pathway  to  his  tomb. 
And  I  presume  that  there  is  some  one  in  this  audience  who 
daily  walks  around  in  seeming  health,  but  the  fixtures  for 


THE   DIVIDING    LINE  227 

his  burial  are  lying,  waiting,  and  no  man  knoweth  that  they 
lie  waiting  for  him.  Thy  final  disease,  my  friend,  will  be 
ascribed  to  a  sudden  cold ;  but  no ;  the  sly  enemy  is  already 
lurking  within  thy  veins,  only  to  spring  upon  thee  when  that 
sudden  cold  shall  furnish  the  occasion.  Thou  hast  passed 
over  the  mysterious  line.  The  cause  of  thy  death  is  already 
at  work :  the  occasion  of  it  may  be  this  or  that  trifling  oc- 
currence. 

"On  what  a  slender  thread 

Hang  everlasting  things; 
The  eternal  state  of  ajl  the  dead 

Upon  Hfe's    feeble   strings !" 

If  thou  hadst  known  in  this  thy  day ;  if  thou  hadst  known 
the  time  of  thy  visitation :  but  now  it  is  hidden  from  thine 
eyes,  and  all  the  medicaments  of  the  earth  and  the  sea  can 
never  remove  the  cause  which  is  in  secret  working  out  thy 
death.  God  adopts  ever  and  anon  a  most  costly  expedient 
to  show  men  how  liable  they  are  every  moment  to  leave  the 
world  of  probation  for  the  world  of  retribution.  How  sud- 
denly during  the  last  winter  was  our  favorite  orator,  Ed- 
ward Everett,  summoned  away  from  us !  and  how  graphic- 
ally did  Mr.  Everett  in  his  memoirs  of  Washington  de- 
scribe the  death  of  that  hero! 

One  fortnight  ago  to-day  it  was  a  bright  Sabbath,  and 
we  were  on  the  eve  of  a  brilliant  victory,  and  Monday  was 
a  day  of  jubilee,  for  the  capital  city  of  the  foe  was  taken. 
One  week  ago  to-day  Mt  was  a  bright  Sabbath,  and  we 
gained  a  crowning  victory,  and  at  midnight  bonfires  were 
lighted,  and  cannon  discharged,  and  the  bells  rang  merry 
peals,  for  the  chief  captain  of  the  rebel  hosts  had  been  taken. 


228  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

We  did  not  dream  that  we  were  walking  on  the  edge  of  a 
great  sorrow.  Four  years  ago  our  President  had  gone 
through  Baltimore,  unharmed  by  the  mob  that  sought  his 
life.  Often  during  the  last  four  years  had  he  walked 
through  the  streets  of  Washington  at  dead  of  night,  and 
had  been  kept  safe  as  in  the  hollow  of  the  hand  of  God.  Re- 
cently had  he  walked  through  the  streets  of  Richmond,  and 
not  a  hand  was  uplifted  against  him.  He  seemed  to  be  the 
special  favorite  of  Providence.  We  thanked  the  Lord  for 
him.  We  anticip^ated  an  illustrious  career  for  him.  Thirty- 
six  hours  ago  he  sat  gladsome  amid  scenes  of  amusement, 
but  quick  as  the  snapping  of  a  pistol  he  crossed  the  line. 
Yesterday  morning  the  nation  woke  to  joy  and  triumph; 
but  in  a  brief  hour  the  nation  crossed  the  line,  and  changed 
its  laughter  into  weeping.  As  individuals  and  as  a  people 
we  are  walking  ever  on  the  boundary  of  affliction,  and  one 
moment  may  bring  us  from  the  heights  of  exultation  to  the 
depths  of  wailing.  At  the  very  hour  when  we  are  preparing 
to  raise  the  flag  of  a  nation's  pride,  at  the  very  hour  when 
we  are  preparing  to  illuminate  our  houses  in  joy,  we  are 
startled  and  stunned  by  the  most  appalling  act  which  ever 
occurred  in  our  history,  or  perhaps  in  any  history.  While 
we  are  rejoicing  that  right  has  become  triumphant,  and 
moral  principle  has  prevailed  over  treason,  suddenly  the 
honest  man  and  the  good  man  fell  down  ;'and  you  and  I  and 
all  of  us  fell  down,  and  treachery  seemed  to  triumph  over  us. 
If  forty-eight  hours  ago,  if  we  had  known  the  things  which 
belonged  to  our  peace !  But  all  this  was  hid  from  our  eyes ; 
for  we  knew  not  the  time  of  our  visitation. 


THE   DIVIDING    LINE  229 

A  like  unsuspected  line  is  drawn  through  our  spiritual  re- 
lations. When  a  man  perceives  the  truths  of  the  gospel 
with  a  particular  degree  of  clearness,  and  puts  forth  only  a 
particular  degree  of  resistance  to  them,  these  truths  subdue 
that  resistance,  and  the  man  through  grace  becomes  a  new 
man.  What  that  degree  of  mental  illumination  is,  what  that 
degree  of  resistance  is,  we  cannot  divine.  We  know  our 
duty.  This  is  revealed  to  us  by  God.  We  are  to  repent  of 
sin ;  then  we  shall  be  saved.  This  is  clear.  We  are  to  trust 
in  Christ ;  then  we  shall  be  saved.  This  is  plain.  Our  duties 
belong  to  us.  Therefore  are  they  made  known  to  us.  The 
conditions  with  which  we  are  to  comply  in  order  to  gain 
heaven  are  so  evident,  that  as  we  read  in  Isaiah,  "The  way- 
faring men,  though  fools,  shall  not  err"  in  regard  to  them. 
But  there  are  occasions  on  which  God  acts,  which  are  dis- 
tinct from  the  duties  required  of  us.  These  occasions  are 
not  revealed  to  us,  because  they  do  not  belong  to  us. 

Our  all-wise  Sovereign  has  selected  certain  conjunctures 
at  which  he  will  interpose  and  renew  men.  He  has  his  own 
reasons  for  selecting  these  opportunities.  When  we  would 
pry  into  his  reasons,  and  when  we  would  search  out  the 
exact  place  or  time  of  these  junctures,  we  learn  the  truth  of 
the  proverb :  "It  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  a  thing." 
He  has  lifted  up  the  veil,  however,  so  far  as  to  let  us  glance 
at  this  fact ;  that  there  is  a  particular  line  on  one  side  of 
which  if  a  man  stand  there  is  reason  to  hope  that  he  will  be 
renewed.  God  has  intimated  the  existence  of  this  shadowy 
line  in  one  item  of  intelligence  given  us  with  regard  to  the 
inhabitants  of  ancient  Tyre.    They  had  received  a  particular 


230  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

degree  of  mental  illumination,  and  had  resisted  it  with  a 
particular  degree  of  stubbornness.  The  degree  of  their 
knowledge  did  not  overpower  the  degree  of  their  resistance. 
But  if  the  degree  of  their  knowledge  had  been  increased  so 
as  to  equal  the  knowledge  given  to  the  people  of  Chorazin, 
and  if  the  degree  of  their  resistance  had  not  been  propor- 
tionally increased,  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  Spirit 
of  God  would  have  converted  the  Tyrians.  There  was  a 
certain  ratio  between  the  amount  of  motive  on  the  one 
hand,  alluring  them  to  repent ;  and  the  amount  of  opposition 
on  the  other  hand  to  that  motive :  with  this  proportion,  the 
Tyrians  remained  impenitent.  Now  if  they  had  not  allowed 
their  resistance  to  rise  above  that  line  of  proportion,  and  if 
the  amount  of  motive  addressed  to  them  had  risen  above 
that  line,  then  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  God,  "who 
commanded  the  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,"  would  have 
shined  into  their  hearts  "to  give  the  light  of  the  knowledge 
of  the  glory  of  God."  Again,  there  was  a  certain  ratio  be- 
tween the  knowledge  enjoyed  by  the  ancient  Sidonians,  and 
the  resistance  cherished  by  them  against  that  knowledge: 
the  motive  came  up  to  a  definite  amount ;  the  opposition 
came  up  to  a  definite  amount.  The  motive  did  not  over- 
power the  opposition.  God  did  not  convert  the  Sidonians; 
but  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  he  would  have  con- 
verted them  if  their  knowledge  had  risen  above  that  definite 
amount,  and  if  their  resistance  had  not  proportionally  risen 
above  its  former  boundary.  Acting  as  a  sovereign,  God 
watches  and  regards  that  line  of  proportion.  He  gave  to 
Chorazin   a  degree  of   knowledge   which  would   through 


THE   DIVIDING    LINE  231 

grace  have  converted  Tyre ;  he  gave  to  the  Bethsaidans  an 
amount  of  motive  which  would  through  grace  have  re- 
newed the  Sidonians,  but  this  degree  of  allurement  did  not 
prevail  with  the  men  of  Chorazin,  nor  with  the  men  of  Betli- 
saida.  Why  did  it  not  prevail  with  these  men?  They  did 
not  allow  their  resistance  to  remain  at  its  former  line.  They 
met  new  truth  by  augmented  antagonism.  They  came 
into  contact  with  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  as  if  he  were 
their  armed  foe ;  when  he  advanced  with  one  power  of  mo- 
tive they  called  out  five  powers  to  oppose  him,  and  when 
he  again  advanced  with  ten  powers  of  persuasion,  they  sum- 
moned one  hundred  powers  to  check  and  thwart  him.  If 
they  had  not  built  new  fortresses  he  would  have  captured 
their  city.  If  they  had  not  encased  themselves  in  new  coats 
of  mail,  his  arrows  would  have  reached  their  hearts ;  and 
his  arrows  wound  in  order  that  they  may  heal.  Therefore 
"began  he  to  upbraid  the  cities  wherein  most  of  his  mighty 
works  were  done,  because  they  repented  not.  Woe  unto 
thee,  Chorazin!  woe  unto  thee,  Bethsaida!  for  if  the 
mighty  works,  which  were  done  in  you,  had  been  done  in 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  they  would  have  repented  long  ago  in  sack- 
cloth and  ashes.  .  .  And  thou,  Capernaum,  which  art  exalted 
unto  heaven,  shalt  be  brought  down  to  hell:  for  if  the 
mighty  works,  which  have  been  done  in  thee,  had  been  done 
in  Sodom,  it  would  have  remained  until  this  day."  Sodom 
would  have  remained  if  ten  of  her  citizens  had  yielded  to 
the  grace  of  God,  and  these  ten  men  would  have  yielded  if 
they  had  received  the  winning  appeal  which  was  made  to 
Capernaum,  and  if  they  had  not  summoned  an  unwonted 


232  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

force  to  withstand  the  unwonted  allurement.  "Father,  for- 
give them ;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do"  was  the  prayer 
of  the  expiring  Redeemer.  But  his  murderers  had  some 
knowledge  of  their  duty.  If  their  knowledge  had  risen  up 
to  a  certain  line  and  if  then  they  had  chosen  to  slay  the 
Prince  of  life,  they  might  have  gone  beyond  the  precinct  of 
forgiving  grace,  and  even  the  Redeemer  could  not  have 
prayed  forgive  them  "for  they  know  not  what  they 
do."  Where  does  this  territory  of  grace  end?  Where  is 
this  appalling  boundary?  God  knoweth.  "The  secret  things 
belong  unto  the  Lord  our  God."  Why  should  we  know? 
"Fear  God,  and  keep  his  commandments :  for  this  is  the 
whole  duty  of  man."  This  duty  is  simple,  therefore  it  is  re- 
vealed and  belongs  to  us,  and  to  our  children  forever,  that 
we  may  do  all  the  words  of  this  law. 

We  have  now  seen,  that  if  men  will  not  rise  in  rebellion 
above  a  certain  boundary,  we  may  hope  that  they  will  be 
converted  when  they  receive  an  increase  of  motive  from 
God  who  renews  men  by  his  truth.  We  are  now  prepared 
to  see,  that  if  men  do  rise  in  rebellion  beyond  a  certain 
boundary  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  they  will  not  be 
converted  even  if  they  should  receive  an  increase  of  motive 
from  God.  The  Tyrians  and  the  Sidonians  had  not  pushed 
their  sin  beyond  the  reach  of  hope.  It  could  not  be  said 
of  them:  "They  will  never  repent,  come  what  may.  They 
will  never  repent,  even  if  miracles  be  wrought  before  them." 
But  there  have  been  men  of  whom  it  could  be  affirmed: 
they  have  pressed  their  rebellion  so  far  that  they  will  not 
yield  come  what  may ;  not  yield  even  if  miracles  be  wrought 


THE   DIVIDING    LINE  233 

before  their  eyes.  We  read  of  five  brethren :  a  prayer  was 
offered  for  them  that  a  messenger  from  the  grave  might  be 
sent  to  them,  and  might  present  to  them  motives  alluring 
them  away  from  sin.  But  "they  have  Moses  and  the 
prophets ;"  let  them  submit  to  Moses  and  the  prophets. 
"Nay,  father  Abraham :  but  if  one  went  unto  them  from  the 
dead,  they  will  repent."  The  response  follows :  "If  they  hear 
not  Moses  and  the  prophets,  neither  will  they  be  persuaded, 
though  one  rose  from  the  dead."  They  had  resisted  Moses 
who  spake  of  Christ.  They  had  resisted  the  prophets  who 
foretold  Christ ;  they  had  despised  the  whole  sacrificial  sys- 
tem which  was  the  type  of  the  one  sacrifice  upon  Golgotha. 
They  had  seen  and  hated  the  glory  of  the  gospel  as  it  shone 
in  the  temple  which  prefigured  the  temple  of  the  Lord's 
body.  They  had  gone  over  the  line  beyond  which  even  the 
grace  of  Jesus  will  not  stretch  itself.  Tyre  and  Sidon  and 
Sodom  would  have  repented  if  they  had  seen  the  mighty 
works  done  in  Capernaum,  but  these  five  brethren  might 
have  witnessed  the  miracle  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  and 
would  remain  obdurate.  When,  where  did  they  cross  the 
line?  They  did  not  know  exactly  when,  nor  exactly  where. 
It  did  not  belong  to  them  to  know.  It  belonged  to  them  to 
hear  Moses  and  the  prophets.  Had  they  obeyed  this  com- 
mand, they  would  have  been  safe.  But  when  they  put  forth 
a  certain  degree  of  resistance  to  this  command  that  was  the 
degree  beyond  which  there  was  no  redemption.  But  what 
is  the  degree?  Where  is  it?  It  is  the  mysterious  line ;  nar- 
row, and,  therefore,  we  cannot  trace  it ;  a  point  drawn  out 
through  the  darkness  and,  therefore,  we  cannot  discern  it. 


234  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

"But  ask  now  the  beasts,  and  they  shall  teach  thee ;  and  the 
fowls  of  the  air,  and  they  shall  tell  thee :  or  speak  to  the 
earth,  and  it  shall  teach  thee :  and  the  fishes  of  the  sea  shall 
declare  unto  thee."  Declare  to  thee  what?  Not  the  times 
and  the  seasons  which  God  keepeth  in  his  own  power.  Not 
precisely  when,  not  precisely  where  God  has  determined  to 
withdraw  his  Spirit,  but  that  he  who  obeys  God  and  he 
only  is  secure ;  he  who  does  his  duty  and  he  only  is  beyond 
the  reach  of  harm. 

Thus  are  we  prompted  to  inquire :  Why  does  God  draw 
through  our  spiritual  relations  such  a  line,  that  if  men 
stand  on  one  side  we  have  reason  to  hope  that  he  will  con- 
vert them,  but,  if  they  stand  on  the  other  side  of  it,  he  will 
not  convert,  but  may  abandon  them  forever?  The  answer 
is  obvious.  He  does  it  in  order  to  awaken  within  us  the 
spirit  of  obedience.  This  is  his  aim  in  all  his  arrangements 
with  us.  Why  does  he  appoint  any  probation  at  all?  In 
order  to  stimulate  us  in  duty  our  eternal  happiness  is  made 
to  depend  on  a  brief  period.  If  during  this  short  interval 
we  be  holy,  we  shall  be  glorified  forever.  If  we  will  not 
obey  him  during  the  narrow  interim  between  birth  and 
death,  we  must  be  lost.  What !  can  we  not  watch  with  him 
one  hour?  If  we  started  in  existence  without  a  probation- 
ary appeal  we  should  lose  a  stimulus  to  duty.  If  the  pro- 
bation were  drawn  out  through  a  million  ages  the  power 
of  the  incentive  would  be  lessened.  It  would  be  expanded 
in  time  to  be  weakened  in  strength.  But  when  the  trial  is 
compressed  into  a  span,  who  will  hesitate  to  endure  the 
trial  well?    May  we  not  hope  to  persevere  during  a  hand- 


THE   DIVIDING    LINE  235 

breadth  of  time  if  then  we  may  enjoy  an  everlasting  rest? 
Shall  we  expect  that  men  will  barter  away  their  whole 
eternity  for*that  period  which  is  a  dream,  a  vapor?  Now, 
as  endless  reward  crowns  a  brief  interval  of  obedience,  and 
as  endless  punishment  follows  hard  upon  a  refusal  to  spend 
a  short  time  for  our  Redeemer,  so  our  prospect  of  being 
converted  depends,  under  God,  upon  our  not  allowing  sin 
to  pass  a  certain  line  of  proportion  to  knowledge.  If  it 
goes  beyond  that  proportion,  he  will  never  interfere  to  save 
us.  As  we  are  startled  by  the  fact  that  we  are  favored  with 
a  narrow  interval,  and  if  we  repent  during  this  interval  of 
life,  we  shall  enter  heaven,  so  are  we  aroused  by  the  fact, 
that  if  we  allow  our  sin  to  rise  beyond  a  certain  degree  we 
shall  never  repent,  but  there  remaineth  for  us  nought  but 
a  fearful  looking  for  judgment.  If  we  dally  with  tempta- 
tion beyond  a  particular  line,  the  door  of  repentance  is  shut 
against  us  forever.  So  have  we  probation  within  probation ; 
every  moment  may  be  our  crisis  ;  and  although  we  shall  not 
fall  over  the  cataract  until  our  final  hour,  yet  we  may  at 
any  minute  enter  that  sweep  and  whirl  of  the  waters  which 
will  bear  us  on  to  the  fatal  plunge.  For  all  the  purposes  of 
salvation  our  life  may  terminate  long  before  we  cease  to 
breathe.  There  may  be  many  a  man  living  in  high  health, 
but  so  far  as  any  prospect  of  heaven  is  concerned  he  may 
be  just  as  dead  as  if  we  had  attended  his  funeral.  In  the 
year  1852,  I  read  an  obituary  notice  of  a  man  who  was 
frozen  to  death  on  the  fourteenth  of  February,  in  Buflfalo, 
Wisconsin,  in  sight  of  his  house,  to  which  he  was  return- 
ing after  a  short  journey.     That  man  had  taken  his  final 


236  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

farewell  of  his  friends,  yet  he  was  hurrying  back  to  greet 
them  once  more.  He  was  in  joyous  hope,  but  he  had  al- 
ready seen  them  for  the  last  time  forever.  He  catches  the 
cheering  view  of  his  cottage ;  but  as  to  the  reunion  with 
his  household,  he  might  as  well  have  been  already  in  his 
grave.  And  many  a  sinner  is  looking  forward  to  the  man- 
sions in  the  skies  and  hopes  that  he  will  reach  them.  Too 
late !  too  late !  He  has  frozen  himself  in  sin.  Months  ago 
he  stepped  over  the  edge  of  safety,  and  he  knows  it  not.  It 
is  iall  over  with  him.  So  far  as  repentance  is  concerned,  he 
might  as  well  be  in  the  eternal  world.  Be  watchful,  there- 
fore, lest  thou  pass  over  the  hidden  line.  Take  care  lest 
thou  stand  on  the  verge  of  the  precipice ;  for  it  is  hard  to 
stand  on  the  boundary  without  falling  into  the  abyss.  There 
is  a  path  on  which  you  have  room  to  walk ;  be  wise  then 
and  do  not  attempt  to  walk  along  the  outmost  verge  of  the 
aby^ss;  for  says  the  greatest  philosopher  which  the  world 
has  ever  knov/n :  "For  as  in  the  days  that  were  before  the 
flood  they  were  eating  and  drinking,  marrying  and  giving 
in  marriage,  until  the  day  that  Noe  entered  into  the  ark, 
and  knew  not  until  the  flood  came,  and  took  them  all  away ; 
so  shall  also  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  man  be.  .  .  .  Watch 
therefore :  for  ye  know  not  what  hour  your  Lord  doth  come. 
But  know  this,  that  if  the  goodman  of  the  house  had  known 
in  what  watch  the  thief  would  come,  he  would  have 
watched,  and  would  not  have  suffered  his  house  to  be 
broken  up.  Therefore  be  ye  also  ready :  for  in  such  an  hour 
as  ye  think  not  the  Son  of  man  cometh." 
We  are  prompted  to  inquire  again,  Why  does  God  con- 


THE   DIVIDING    LINE  237 

ceal  the  exact  line  on  one  side  of  which  if  men  stand  we 
have  reason  to  think  they  will  be  converted,  and  on  the  other 
side  there  is  no  hope  for  them?  There  is  more  hope  of  a 
fool  than  of  them.  God  leaves  this  line  invisible  in  order  to 
promote  our  constant  activity.  We  are  in  danger  of  fatally 
crossing  the  line ;  therefore  we  must  be  alert.  We  may 
cross  it  before  we  see  it ;  therefore,  we  must  be  continually 
alert.  We  know  that  we  must  die ;  hence  we  must  prepare 
for  the  change  :  we  do  not  know  when  we  must  die ;  hence 
we  must  every  moment  prepare  for  the  change. 

A  laborer  sometimes  desists  from  his  toil  just  before  the 
moment  when  he  would  have  succeeded  if  he  had  perse- 
vered. He  aims  to  cleave  asunder  a  rock,  and  strikes  with 
his  hammer  ninety-nine  times  in  the  same  place ;  and  the 
rock  does  not  open,  and  he  lays  his  sledge  down  and  goes 
home  discouraged.  Had  he  struck  once  more,  the  rock 
would  have  been  in  twain.  There  is  many  a  Christian  who 
continues  for  weeks  faithful  to  an  impenitent  friend,  and  at 
length  suspends  his  efforts,  because  he  discerns  no  sign  of 
a  good  result.  Had  he  spoken  one  word  more,  had  he 
persevered  in  his  good  example  one  hour  longer,  the  rocky 
heart  would  have  broken.  But  he  ceased  from  duty  just 
before  he  had  reached  the  line. 

It  was  a  pointed  remark  of  Rabbi  Eliezer,  "Turn  to  God 
one  day  before  death."  His  disciples  asked  him :  "How  can 
a  man  know  when  this  one  day  before  death  comes?"  He 
answered  them,  "Therefore  you  should  turn  to  God  to-day 
— perhaps  you  may  die  to-morrow."  But  there  is  a  death 
before  death.     There  is  a  certain  degree  of  sin  which  you 


238  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

must  avoid,  or  the  Holy  Spirit  will  declare:  "Let  him  alone, 
he  is  joined  to  his  idols."  Now  the  rule  is :  repent  one  day 
before  you  reach  that  degree.  But  how  can  we  ascertain 
when  that  day  will  come?  Repent  to-day;  for  to-morrow 
there  may  be  no  hope.  Avoid  every  degree  of  sin;  then  you 
will  be  sure  of  avoiding  the  fatal  degree.  Do  not  go  near 
the  line  ;  keep  at  the  greatest  possible  distance  from  it.  But 
I  do  not  see  it ;  how  shall  I  know  that  I  am  far  from  it?  He 
that  wills  to  do  the  will  of  God,  he  shall  know  that  he  is  on 
the  right  side  of  the  line.  But  will  you  allow  me  to  sin  up 
to  that  line?  Turn  to  God  one  day  before  you  reach  that 
line ;  one  hour  before,  one  minute  'before.  Perhaps  you 
have  already  come  to  that  minute.  Perhaps  your  next 
sin  may  be  the  going  beyond  the  bourne  from  which  no 
traveler  returns  to  the  path  of  safety.  Choose  once  more 
to  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  it  may  be  said  of  you  in  a 
double  sense :  "He  found  no  place  of  repentance,  though  he 
sought  it  carefully  with  tears."  But  the  line!  the  line! 
"Where  shall  wisdom  be  found?  and  where  is  the  place  of 
understanding"  that  I  may  discern  this  coming  crisis?  Wis- 
dom— to  detect  the  mysterious  line !  "The  depth  saith,  It  is 
not  in  me :  and  the  sea  saith,  It  is  not  with  me."  Whence 
then  cometh  wisdom,  that  I  may  discern  the  culminating 
point?  and  where  is  the  place  of  understanding,  seeing  it  is 
hid  from  the  eyes  of  all  living,  and  kept  close  from  the  fowls 
of  the  air?  "Destruction  and  death  say.  We  have  heard  the 
fame  thereof  with  our  ears.  God  understandeth  the  way 
thereof,  and  he  knoweth  the  place  thereof.  .  .  .  The  fear  of 
the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom ;  and  to  depart  at  once  from  evil 


THE   DIVIDING    LINE  239 

that  is  understanding."  Perhaps  the  recording  angel  has 
already  taken  his  pen  to  draw  the  mark  which  terminates 
the  day  of  hope  for  some  impenitent  man  who  now  care- 
lessly hears  these  words.  Oh,  could  we  persuade  that  silent 
recorder  to  stay  his  hand  until  the  close  of  this  Sabbath, 
and  until  the  dead  of  night  when  all  the  earth  sitteth  still 
and  is  at  rest !  But  we  cannot  hold  back  the  hand  that  is 
to  move  the  pen  and  draw  the  fearful  line.  There  will  be 
no  tolling  of  a  bell  in  heaven  to  let  us  know  when  the  line 
is  drawn ;  but  we  know  this,  that  when  the  mysterious  pen 
shall  make  its  awful  movement,  that  idle  hearer,  so  far  as 
any  prospect  of  his  salvation  is  concerned,  might  as  well 
be  in  hell. 

"There  is  a  line,  we  know  not  when, 

A  point,  we  know  not  where. 
That  marks  the  destiny  of  men 

To  glory  or  despair. 

There  is  a  line  by  us  unseen, 

That  crosses  every  path; 
The  hidden  boundary  between 

God's  patience  and  his  wrath. 

To  pass  that  limit  is  to  die, 

To  die  as  if  by  stealth, 
It  does  not  quench  the  beaming  eye, 

Or  pale  the  glow  of  health. 

The  conscience  may  be  still  at  ease. 

The  spirits  light  and  gay; 
That  which    is  pleasing  still    may  please. 

And  care  be  thrust  away. 

But  on  that  forehead  God  has  set. 

Indelibly  a  mark 
Unseen  by  man, — for  man  as  yet 

Is  blind  and  in  the  dark. 


240  THE    DIVIDING   LINE 

And  yet  the  doomed  man's  path  below 
May  bloom  as  Eden  bloomed. 

He  did  not,  does  not,  will  not  know 
Or  feel  that  he  is  doomed. 

He  knows,  he  feels  that  all  is  well, 
And  every  fear  is  calmed; 

He  lives,  he  dies  and  wakes  in  hell 
Not  only  doomed  but  damned. 

Oh,  where  is  this  mysterious  bourne 
By  which  our  path  is  crossed? 

Beyond  which  God  himself  hath  sworn 
That  he  who  goes  is  lost. 

How  far  may  we  go  on  in  sin? 

How  long  will  God  forbear? 
Where  does  hope  end,  and  where  begin 

The  confines  of  despair? 

The  answer  from  the  skies  is  sent : 
Ye  that  from  God  depart. 

While  it  is  called  to-day  repent, — 
And  harden  not  your  heart." 


NOT  FAR   FROM  THE   KINGDOM   OF   GOD 


NOT    FAR    FROM    THE    KINGDOM    OF    GOD 

"Thou  art  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God." — Mark  12:   34. 

The  phrase  "kingdom  of  God"  has  in  the  Bible  various 
significations.  Sometimes  it  signifies  the  whole  universe ; 
for  of  the  whole  universe,  Jehovah  is  the  rightful  King. 
Sometimes  it  signifies  heaven ;  for  of  heaven  God  is  not 
only  the  rightful,  but  also  the  acknowledged  and  peculiar 
King.  Sometimes  it  signifies  the  Church  on  earth ;  for  the 
Church  on  earth  will  soon  be  the  Church  in  heaven,  and  is 
now,  as  it  ever  will  be,  loyal  to  its  Sovereign.  Sometimes 
it  signifies  that  state  of  heart  which  is  essential  to  admis- 
sion into  the  church.  It  denotes  that  preparative  feeling 
by  the  figure  of  the  cause  for  the  effect,  the  antecedent  for 
the  consequent.  When  Christ  says  to  the  scribe,  "Thou  art 
not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God,"  he  means,  Thou  hast  but 
few  obstacles  to  overcome  in  order  to  be  my  true  disciple ; 
thy  state  of  heart  is  not  that  of  the  Christian,  but  is  very 
near  it ;  thou  art  almost  qualified  to  unite  with  my  Church, 
but  not  altogether.  There  are  persons  in  this  house  who 
are  like  the  scribe  in  the  text,  nearly  prepared  to  be  dis- 
ciples of  Christ.  Some  imagine  themselves  to  be  really 
Christians,  being  misled  by  the  fact  that  they  are  almost 
persuaded  to  be  such.  Their  nearness  deceives  them.  The 
counterfeit  money  is  almost  exactly  like  the  true  coin. 
Some  are  living  without  hope,  and  have  been  and  are  now 


244  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOxM  OF  GOD 

but  a  single  step  removed  from  piety.  They  have  been  so 
in  times  of  pecuHar  religious  interest,  and  in  their  own 
private  solicitude  in  the  circle  of  religious  friends,  and  in 
the  stillness  of  their  closet. 

It  becomes,  therefore,  an  important  inquiry.  What  is  the 
distinctive  character  of  those  sinners  who  are  nearly  Chris- 
tians? 

In  the  first  place,  they  have  correct  ideas  of  divine  truth. 
Men  who  deny  the  essentials  of  Christianity  have  much  to 
do  before  they  will  be  converted.      Tliey  reject  doctrines 
which  are  the  wisdom  and  power  of  God  unto  salvation. 
As  the  heart  is  converted  by  the  instrumentality  of  truth  so 
it  is  converted  by  the  instrumentality  of  truth  believed. 
This  truth  is  like  the  sun  shining  in  the  firmament  of  the 
soul.    But  so  long  as  the  man  excludes  this  truth  he  shuts 
out  the  rays  that  illumine  and  fertilize  his  mind,  and  religion 
will  not  grow  up  in  his  cold  and  darkened  heart.    He  must 
come  under  the  influence  of  Christ's  doctrine,  or  he  will 
never  be  converted.     Yet  here  is  another  obstacle  to  his 
change.    Those  false  theories  which  are  excluding  him  from 
heaven  he  loves.     He  considers  himself  pledged  to  sustain 
them.     He  clings  to  them  as  the  madman  will  sometimes 
cling  to  his  chains.    If  you  attempt  to  force  the  errors  from 
his  close  grasp,  you  must  force  them  inch  by  inch.    To  give 
up  the  pillow  on  which  he  has  slept  so  long  and  so  sweetly ; 
to  leave  the  couch  which  has  supported  him  through  many 
a  happy  dream,  is  like  the  giving  up  of  the  ghost.  The  act 
of  all  acts  most  essential  to  his  peace  is  the  one  which  of  all 
is  the  most  painful. 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  245 

But  they  who  have  correct  ideas  of  doctrine  may  become 
Christians  with  comparatively  little  self-denial.  They  are 
already  prepared  for  the  operation  of  divine  truth.  Their 
hearts  are  cleared  from  the  weeds  and  thorns  of  skepticism 
choking  the  word  in  the  mind  of  their  neighbors.  The  dew 
from  heaven  may  fall  at  once  upon  them ;  the  rays  of  the 
sun  may  come  into  immediate  contact  with  them,  and  the 
plants  of  religion  may  spring  up  unobstructed  by  the  op- 
pressive weight  of  error.  Having  already  enlightened  their 
minds,  they  have  nothing  to  do  but  yield  their  hearts.  They 
are  almost  ready  to  become  disciples  of  their  Lord  ;  for  they 
are  ready  in  all  things  except  their  will.  They  are  like  the 
man  who  has  escaped  from  the  darkness  of  the  dungeon, 
and  the  light  is  shining  on  all  parts  of  his  body  except  the 
retina  of  his  eye,  for  that  part  he  will  not  open  to  the  sun's 
rays. 

In  the  second  place,  those  sinners  who  are  nearly  Chris- 
tians are  amiable  and  correct  in  their  natural  sensibilities 
and  their  external  conduct. 

The  victim  of  vice  has  much  to  do  before  he  will  become 
a  child  of  God.  He  is  wedded  to  his  immoralities,  nor  will 
he  tear  himself  from  them.  They  have  grown  with  his 
growth  and  become  almost  incorporated  with  his  constitu- 
tion. They  are  like  the  vine  upon  the  tree ;  entwined  around 
every  branch,  clinging  to  every  twig,  firmly  grasping  the 
root,  nor  will  it  ever  die  until  the  tree  itself  is  hewn  down. 
So  important  does  he  regard  his  vicious  indulgences,  that 
he  is  bold  to  pronounce  them  essential  to  his  life ;  the  only 
threads  which  hold  him  from  the  grave.     Deprive  me,  he 


246  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 

cries,  of  my  present  sinful  habits  and  I  lose  my  health.  Se- 
clude me  from  my  cups,  and  my  whole  system  will  decline 
instantly ;  I  cannot  survive  the  change  of  habit.  Miserable 
man  that  he  is,  nothing  but  a  single  cord  holds  him  up  from 
hell,  and  that  cord  nothing  but  sin ! 

Whenever  the  victim  of  fashionable  vices  is  induced  to 
think  of  religion  he  thinks  of  it  as  the  enemy  of  his  joys. 
Religion  and  his  indulgences  cannot  coexist,  and  he  will 
not  for  untried  pleasures  abandon  those  long  tried  and 
fondly  cherished.  The  gambler  asks.  Shall  I  love  God? 
The  question  is  tantamount  to  the  mournful  one,  Shall  I 
abandon  my  profession?  The  miser  asks.  Shall  I  prefer 
heaven  to  earth?  The  question  is  equivalent  to  the  offen- 
sive one,  Shall  I  come  to  beggary?  The  scoffer  asks,  Shall 
I  venerate  the  Spirit  of  God?  The  question  is  identical  with 
the  chilling  one.  Shall  I  cut  myself  ofif  from  the  only  society 
in  which  I  can  find  delight?  Religion  comes  to  the  profli- 
gate man,  not  as  a  friend  with  an  olive  branch  and  a  smile, 
but  as  a  warrior  with  a  sword  and  a  frown,  and  a  lifted  front. 

But  the  man  who  preserves  a  correct  external  demeanor 
finds  no  obstacles  like  these.  Already  is  he  an  intimate  of 
the  society  of  Christians  and  can  therefore  change  his  heart 
without  changing  his  friends.  Already  is  he  regular  in  his 
attention  to  the  Bible  and  to  the  hour  of  prayer  and  to  the 
house  of  God,  and  therefore  can  turn  from  hatred  to  love, 
without  turning  from  the  second  nature  of  external  habit. 
Already  does  he  pursue  an  honorable  and  useful  occupation, 
and  therefore  may  reform  his  life  without  subjecting  him- 
self to  poverty.    Thus  is  he  free  from  many  obstacles  which 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  247 

disreputable  customs  throw  into  the  path  toward  paradise. 
Divine  grace  has  freed  him,  and  has  made  his  visible  de- 
portment so  similar  to  that  of  the  pious,  that  he  is  some- 
times mistaken  for  one  who  is  pious.  Often  does  the  ob- 
server of  mere  externals  think  that  the  correct  and  moral 
sinner  is  a  true  disciple.  He  is  a  great  transgressor  and  yet 
his  visible  deportment  is  that  of  a  faithful  Christian ;  a  dar- 
ing rebel  and  yet  almost  a  child  of  God ;  for,  having  a  clear 
view  of  the  divine  character,  he  puts  forth  a  kind  of  love  to 
it,  but  withholds  his  supreme  love ;  having  a  clear  view  of 
sin  he  cherishes  a  kind  of  sorrow  for  it,  but  refuses  to  cher- 
ish true  penitence  ;  having  a  clear  view  of  the  atonement  he 
has  a  kind  of  trust  in  it,  but  will  not  exercise  self-denying 
faith.  He  does  love  the  divine'  attributes,  not  because  there 
is  holiness  in  them,  but  because  a  personal  gain  may  be  ex- 
pected from  them.  He  does  grieve  over  his  sins,  not  be- 
cause they  are  sins  against  a  pure  law,  but  because  they 
will  be  followed  by  personal  loss.  He  does  believe  in  the 
Redeemer,  not  because  there  is  a  spiritual  loveliness  in  the 
Redeemer's  character,  but  because  there  are  crowns  of 
gold  at  the  Redeemer's  disposal;  not  on  account  of  Christ 
crucified,  but  on  account  of  Christ  glorified.  The  man  who 
is  almost  a  Christian  does  confess  that  he  is  morally  de- 
praved; he  has  sent  for  the  medicines;  they  are  within 
reach;  they  are  at  his  very  lips — but  he  wdll  not  open  his 
lips,  nor  comply  with  the  only  condition  on  which  he  can 
be  healed.  He  is  like  the  drowning  mariner  not  at  the  very 
bottom  of  the  sea  but  risen  up  near  to  the  surface,  but  he 
no  more  breathes  the  air  of  heaven  while  a  single  ell  below 


248  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 

the  surface  than  if  he  were  almost  out  and  yet  entirely  in 
the  vast  caverns  of  the  deep. 

In  the  third  place,  those  sinners  who  are  nearly  Christians 
are  accustomed  to  candid  and  solemn  contemplation  on 
their  eternal  prospects.  They  know  the  right  course,  that 
it  tends  to  heaven  and  that  they  have  not  yet  commenced 
their  walk  in  it.  They  know  the  wrong  course,  that  it  tends 
to  despair  everlasting.  They  know  and  they  feel  that  they 
deserve  this  despair.  They  feel  that  they  ought  to  escape 
from  it.  Many  a  solemn  hour  do  they  spend  in  silent  medi- 
tation on  the  justice  of  the  final  judge.  Many  a  silent  tear 
do  they  let  fall  when  they  think  that  they  must  soon  and 
may  suddenly  die,  and  yet  are  entirely  unprepared.  Many 
a  drooping  of  the  heart  do  they  feel  when  the  Sabbath 
closes,  and  they  leave  the  sanctuary  where  they  had  hoped 
(they  had  never  divulged,  but  they  had  secretly  cherished, 
while  they  were  half  ashamed  of  the  hope)  that  they  should 
find  peace,  but  they  do  find  that  they  are  still  forlorn  in  sin. 
In  the  recesses  of  their  soul  they  long  (they  dare  not  reveal 
their  longing),  but  it  is  a  kind  of  anxious  though  selfish  de- 
sire to  be  cleansed  from  their  defilement  and  presented 
pure  and  spotless  before  the  Father.  Have  there  not  been 
moments  when  you,  my  friend,  have  desired  that  your 
Christian  friends  would  converse  with  you  more  frequently 
than  they  had  done — pray  over  you  more  earnestly,  and 
labor  with  more  zeal  for  your  conversion?  Have  you  not 
often  painted  before  your  eyes  the  dark  picture  of  futurity? 
thought  of  all  the  scenes  through  which  you  must  pass  in 
the  land  to  which  you  are  hastening?  been  filled  with  gloom 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  249 

as  you  have  reflected  on  your  final  separation  from  all  your 
pious  friends,  and  your  banishment  from  all  joy?  And  in 
the  midst  of  all  this  gloom,  have  you  not  longed  for  the 
creative  energies  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  have  you  not  said, 
when  no  man  could  hear  your  w^hispers  to  yourself :  Oh, 
that  I  were  a  Christian!  At  those  moments  you  were  dis- 
tant from  heaven  only  the  breadth  of  your  heart.  You  rea- 
soned well  about  your  future  prospects  and  just  as  sadly  as 
well.  Your  anguish  in  view  of  retribution  was  wise  and  had 
it  not  been  for  the  simple  pride  of  your  feelings,  it  would 
have  resulted  in  true  peace.  You  had  been  led  to  over- 
come the  thoughtlessness,  the  indolence,  and  the  vanity  of 
the  mind;  you  had  even  wept  for  your  sin,  so  cruel  to 
your  soul,  and  been  made  to  surmount  all  obstacles  to  your 
conversation,  save  that  simple  pride  of  heart.  That  simple 
pride  is  the  only  wall  which  keeps  you  from  Paradise.  Oth- 
er walls  were  battered  down.  That  one  wall  you  might 
have  overleaped,  but  you  would  not. 

There  were  two  classmates  at  Yale  college,  who  esteemed 
and  loved  each  other,  and  each  confidentially  informed  the 
other  of  his  special  interest  in  religion.  While  walking  near 
the  house  of  President  Dwight,  they  inquired  whether  they 
should  not  accept  the  President's  invitation  and  visit  him 
for  his  religious  counsel.  They  stopped  at  his  door  and 
hesitated.  One  says,  "I  will  go  in."  The  other  says,  "I 
think  Twill  not  to-day."  The  one  was  Dr.  Taylor  of  New 
Haven  :  he  went  in  ;  conversed  with  his  spiritual  counsellor; 
became  a  devout  man,  and  after  communing  with  the 
Church   on  earth  went  to  commune  with  the   angels  in 


250  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 

heaven.  The  other  devoted  himself  to  the  world ;  struggled 
for  its  honors,  was  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen  and  fared 
sumptuously  every  day.  But  at  last  he  died  and  was  buried ; 
and  we  fear  joined  that  immense  company  who  intended 
to  begin  a  religious  life, — who  intended  to — but  not  to-day. 
When  those  two  amiable  and  sedate  young  men  stood  at 
the  door  of  President  Dwight,  they  were  both  not  far  from 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  But  then  and  there  they  went 
from  each  other — one  into  the  kingdom,  the  other  away 
from  it;  and  this  afternoon  they  may  be  still  going  from 
each  other ;  the  one  rising  higher  and  higher ;  the  other 
sinking  lower  and  lower.  Many  a  youthful  scholar  has 
parted  from  his  friend  at  the  door  of  a  pious  classmate  or 
instructor;  then  and  there  they  separated  spiritually  and 
will  never  meet.  The  door  of  the  house  where  youthful 
Christians  meet  for  prayer  and  praise  is  often  the  gate  of 
heaven. 

Having  now  considered  the  distinctive  character  of  those 
sinners  who  are  nearly  Christians,  let  us  proceed  to  con- 
sider their  peculiar  condition.  And  in  the  first  place,  they 
are  in  a  state  of  peculiar  obligation  to  enter  the  kingdom  of 
God.  Obligation  to  perform  a  duty  is  proportioned  to  the 
ease  of  performing  duty.  The  man  who  can  with  the  great- 
est facility  accommodate  his  neighbor  or  serve  his  govern- 
ment is  under  the  strongest  obligation  to  render  those  serv- 
ices. Now,  'all  that  God  requires  of  man  is  easy  if  men 
would  not  make  it  hard.  When  God  requires  of  sinners  to 
repent  he  imposes  no  heavy  burden  and  binds  no  galling 
yoke  upon  them,  but  they  throw  difficulties  in  their  own 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  251 

way,  and  if  they  could,  would  cancel  all  their  obligations. 
But  escape  from  the  pressing  force  of  duty  they  cannot. 
Still,  the  fewer  the  difficulties  so  much  the  stronger  are  the 
obligations,  and  as  those  who  are  already  nearer  the  true 
kingdom  have  fewer  obstacles  than  those  who  are  further 
from  it,  they  are  bound  with  peculiar  firmness  to  the  duty 
of  becoming  not  only  almost  but  altogether  obedient  to  the 
commands  of  heaven. 

Obligation,  too,  is  proportioned  to  knowledge.  Of  him 
to  whom  much  is  committed,  much  will  be  required.  "If  ye 
were  blind,  ye  should  have  no  sin:  but  now  ye  say,  We 
see ;  therefore  your  sin  remaineth."  "If  I  had  not  come 
and  spoken  unto  them,  they  had  not  had  sin :  but  now  they 
have  no  cloak  for  their  sin."  "That  servant,  which  knew 
his  lord's  will,  and  prepared  not  himself,  neither  did  accord- 
ing to  his  will,  shall  be  beaten  with  many  stripes."  The 
inhabitants  of  New  Orleans  are  bound  to  repent,  yet  not 
so  firmly  bound  as  the  inhabitants  of  this  place,  for  they 
have  not  so  clear  ideas  of  God.  All  in  this  house  are  re- 
quired to  be  holy,  yet  some  are  required  more  imperatively 
than  others.  Though  the  burden  of  duty  resting  on  each 
individual  is  immense,  and  without  repentance  will  weigh 
each  down  into  despair,  yet  is  it  a  peculiar  burden  that  rests 
on  him  who  has  been  the  most  thoughtful  and  enlightened. 
Thou  child  of  many  prayers  and  of  much  early  instruction 
and  of  frequent  personal  anxieties,  a  voice  of  uncommon 
power  calls  thee  to  repent.  Thou  man  of  gray  locks,  every 
year  of  thy  long  life  has  added  to  thine  obligations  and  these 
are  now  sufficient  to  bend  down  thy  head  to  the  grave. 


252  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 

Thou  considerate  sinner,  who  hast  attended  the  meeting 
for  inquiry,  hast  read  the  Bible  often,  and  wept  much  over 
thy  sins,  thy  long  study  of  divine  truth  has  imposed  upon 
thee  the  most  fearful  obligations.  If  any  man  on  earth  is 
required  to  be  a  Christian,  thou  art  the  man.  Thou  art  not 
required,  like  the  merchant  in  a  demoralizing  traffic,  to  re- 
linquish the  contraband  article;  nor  like  the  votary  of 
fashion  to  abandon  thy  whole  retinue  of  vanities.  All  im- 
pediments to  your  conversion  are  removed — save  one.  The 
external  barriers  have  been  displaced.  One  solitary  parti- 
tion now  remains.  With  you  it  is  an  emphatic  truth :  one 
thing  is  needful.  You  are  hard  by  the  kingdom  of  God, 
It  is  all  in  full  sight.  Most  distinctly  do  you  see  your  own 
relations  and  the  ease  of  changing  them,  but  this  distinct- 
ness of  the  perception  and  this  ease  of  the  performance  are 
the  very  things  that  bind  you  to  your  duty,  a  hundred — 
yea,  a  thousandfold. 

In  the  second  place,  the  man  who  is  nearly  a  Christian 
is  in  a  state  of  peculiar  guilt.  I  say  peculiar  guilt.  I  do 
not  say  that  in  all  respects  the  guilt  of  one  who  is  almost  a 
Christian  is  greater  than  that  of  everybody  else.  We  can- 
not always  measure  the  comparative  ill-desert  of  man.  We 
cannot  always  say  that  one  sinner  who  is  immoral  in  his 
life,  is  on  the  whole  more  guilty  than  another  sinner  who 
is  moral.  We  know  that  he  is  more  ill-deserving  in  some 
particulars.  The  same  is  true  if  we  invert  the  proposition. 
We  cannot  affirm  that  every  sinner  who  is  near  the  point  of 
conversion  is  more  ill-deserving  than  some  transgressor 
who  is  far  removed  from  this  point,  but  he  is  more  ill-de- 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  253 

serving  in  some  relations ;  his  guilt  is  different  from  that  of 
others;   it  is  a  peculiar  guilt. 

Obligation,  as  we  have  seen,  is  proportioned  to  knowl- 
edge, and  to  ease  of  discharging  duty ;  so  guilt  is  propor- 
tioned to  resisted  obligation ;  and  when  obligation  and 
ease  are  both  peculiar,  the  guilt  of  resisted  obligation  is 
peculiar.  At  the  day  of  judgment  the  guilt  of  one  who 
has  been  nearly  a  Christian  will  be  very  different  from 
that  of  a  heathen.  God  has  never  pleaded  with  a  hea- 
then as  he  has  with  you,  my  friend.  He  has  never  been 
so  importunate  with  them,  waited  for  them  so  long,  sent 
his  Spirit  to  them  so  often.  Great  rebels  they,  but  their 
rebellion  is  against  feebler  remonstrances  of  conscience 
than  you  have  had.  There  are  many  flagitious  sinners 
around  you.  I  tremble  when  I  think  of  their  guilt,  but 
it  is  very  certain  that  their  guilt  is  in  some  respects 
less  than  yours ;  and  it  is  possible  that  in  all  respects 
they  will  be  qualified  to  rise  up  against  you  and  condemn 
you  at  the  last  day.  It  is  possible  that  their  ingratitude 
may  be  as  nothing  compared  with  yours ;  their  privi- 
leges have  not  been  sufficient  to  enable  them  to  be  so  un- 
grateful as  you  can  be.  It  is  possible  that  their  hatred  of 
the  truth  has  been  as  nothing  when  compared  with  yours. 
Their  instruction  in  the  truth  has  not  been  sufficient  to  en- 
able them  to  be  so  stubborn  against  it  as  you  can  be.  Your 
guilt  must  be  peculiar  because  you  are  enjoying  so  rich  and 
diversified  means  of  grace.  Besides,  your  sobriety  of  char- 
acter gives  you  an  influence,  and  you  throw  your  influence 
into  the  scale  of  wickedness.  You  are  so  correct  in  your 
outward  conduct  that  your  companions  are  secretly  plead- 


254  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 

ing  your  example  for  their  continuance  in  sin.  We  need 
not  repent,  they  say ;  for  there  is  an  impenitent  man,  candid, 
kind  and  scrupulously  moral.  Everybody  speaks  of  him  as 
a  good  man  and  yet  he  neglects  religion.  We  may  be  good 
men  and  yet  neglect  religion.  He  is  more  exemplary  than 
many  in  the  church.  We  may  be  exemplary  and  yet  de- 
spise the  church.  Scarcely  any  one  has  so  much  character 
as  he,  and  yet  he  is  without  piety.  If  we  can  bear  the  same 
character  we  shall  be  satisfied  and  yet  without  piety.  He 
is  safe  and  does  not  deny  himself;  we  will  be  safe  like  him 
and  happy  too.  Were  we  confined  to  the  companionship  of 
the  drunkard  and  debauchee  we  should  struggle  for  religion 
which  would  disenthral  us  from  the  mortification  of  such 
society ;  but  honored  as  we  are  with  the  companionship  of 
this  model  of  propriety,  what  need  we  more?  Belonging  to 
the  same  class  with  him,  our  destiny  is  linked  with  his — 
how,  how  can  we  be  unsafe?  Ah,  you  who  are  almost  a 
Christian,  you  perhaps  seldom  think  of  this,  but  it  is  a  most 
solemn  truth  !  Your  guilt  is  enhanced  by  the  security  which 
your  character  gives  to  impenitence,  and  your  descent  into 
ruin  will  be  made  the  lower  by  the  crowd  of  sinners  who 
are  hanging  like  millstones  on  your  skirts.  Is  it  not  enough, 
is  it  not  enough  for  a  man  to  fall  into  the  pit  by  his  own 
weight?  Must  he  be  dragged  down  deeper  by  men  who  are 
clinging  to  him  for  support,  and  adding  the  burden  of  their 
own  iniquities  to  the  immense  burden  of  his?  Not  content 
with  ruining  himself,  must  he  ruin  others?  Not  satisfied 
with  the  society  of  Satan  and  his  angels  in  despair,  must 
he  gather  around  him  his  friends  and  neighbors  and  rcla- 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  255 

tives,  and  live  forever  amid  their  reproaches  for  his  example, 
their  execrations  upon  him  for  contaminating  them,  for 
smoothing  their  path  to  woe,  for  quieting  their  conscience 
in  rebellion,  for  leaguing  them  with  him  in  this  world  as  his 
admirers,  and  in  the  world  to  come  as  his  most  obnoxious 
tormentors?  Guilt,  guilt  altogether  peculiar,  the  guilt  of 
light  resisted,  of  mercy  despised,  of  strong  rebelHon,  of  bad 
example  peculiarly  seductive,  of  souls  hardened  and  un- 
done, undone  forever — all  this  guilt  clings  and  will  cling  to 
the  amiable  sinner  who  is  after  all  not  far  from  the  kingdom 
of  God. 

In  the  third  place,  those  sinners  who  are  nearly  Chris- 
tians are  in  a  condition  of  peculiar  misery.  The  abandoned 
man  thinks  that  he  has  joys.  He  boasts  of  his  mirth  and 
his  sports  of  revelry.  He  has  burst  away  so  far  from  God 
and  God's  law,  and  said  tO'  himself  so  fearlessly,  "Soul,  take 
thine  ease,"  that  he  dreams  of  happiness  even  in  his  debase- 
ment. The  Christian  has  real  joy.  He  is  a  partaker  at  the 
feast  of  divine  love.  He  delights  in  his  converse  with  Je- 
hovah and  his  hope  of  glory.  But  the  poor  sinner  who  is 
nearly  a  Christian  is  destitute  of  all  joys.  He  cannot  wallow 
with  the  debauchee ;  he  will  not  soar  with  the  child  of  God. 
He  finds  no  satisfaction  in  the  world  and  goes  mourning 
all  the  day  because  he  finds  none  in  Christ.  He  cannot 
sport  with  the  profane  and  will  not  pray  with  the  pious. 
He  has  not  enough  of  heaven  to  make  that  a  delight,  nor 
enough  of  the  world  to  make  that  a  comfort — too  much 
conscience  to  be  happy  in  sin,  too  much  sin  to  be  happy  in 
religion.     Oh,  the  misery  of  living  dissevered  both  from 


256  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 

earth  and  heaven !  He  sits  between  two  feasts ;  the  one  a 
feast  of  death,  of  wasting  wine  and  sugared  poisons ;  the 
other  a  feast  of  the  bread  of  heaven  and  calm,  undying  joy. 
He  sits  between  and  looks  to  his  right  hand  and  his  left ;  and 
still  he  sits  and  looks  again  to  his  right  hand  and  his  left, 
and  sits,  and  sits,  and  sits,  and  famishes  his  soul  and  expects 
naught  but  eternal  hunger  and  pining  and  famishing  away. 
A  traveler  is  allured  on  one  of  the  stormy  nights  of  winter 
into  a  circle  of  noisy  sinners.  He  mingles  in  their  hilarity 
and  joins  in  their  profane  songs ;  but  when  he  thinks  of  his 
own  quiet  dwelling  far  away  from  the  scene  of  his  sports, 
and  of  his  once  happy  but  now  anxious  family,  he  stops  his 
jovial  conversation  and  puts  aside  his  bowl,  and  hastens  to 
his  home.  His  heart  beating  with  concern  he  climbs  over 
many  a  hill  and  presses  through  many  a  brake.  Often  a 
bank  of  snow  intercepts  his  progress,  but  exhausting  labor 
surmounts  the  difficulty.  He  quickens  his  footsteps  over 
the  pathless  fields,  sometimes  losing  his  direction,  and 
sometimes  driven  backward  by  the  wind.  Nature  is  already 
spent,  yet  still  he  longs  to  reach  his  happy  abode  and  faints 
and  longs  and  travels  on,  until  at  length  he  can  behold  his 
dwelling  all  lighted  to  receive  him.  He  can  even  see  his 
wife  and  children  around  the  lire,  all  waiting  for  his  return ; 
and  now  he  rouses  his  jaded  body  to  an  almost  hopeful  ef- 
fort and  utters  one  faint  shriek  and  heaves  one  sigh,  and  then 
falling  to  the  ground  dies  in  his  own  garden.  He  had  worn 
out  his  system  that  he  might  almost  regain  his  cheerful  fire- 
side ;  he  had  tired  his  nature  that  he  might  almost  receive 
the  greetings  of  his  children.    Alas,  nor  wife,  nor  children 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  257 

more  shall  he  behold,  nor  friends,  nor  sacred  home.  He 
tarried  too  long-  with  the  circle  of  sinners,  and  then  took 
his  mournful  journey  only  to  die  in  full  view  of  his  lost 
joys.  He  fatigued  his  body  only  to  die  the  sooner.  And  thou 
who  art  nearly  a  Christian,  thou  art  pursuing  the  same 
journey  and  in  danger  of  spending  thy  strength  for  the  same 
end,  and  falling  at  last  into  perdition  from  the  very  garden 
of  the  Lord.  How  many  harrowing  thoughts,  how  many 
anxieties,  how  many  tears,  how  many  painful  attempts  to 
pray,  how  many  severe  resolutions  to  abandon  the  world! 
And  yet  after  all  these  troubles  and  sighs  and  groans,  you 
are  still  without  hope,  still  bending  under  the  burden  of 
your  solicitudes,  and  perhaps  will  sink  under  their  weight 
into  eternal,  unappeased  conviction. 

Such  a  man,  says  John  Howe,  takes  great  pains  to  perish ; 
such  a  man  tries  to  perish  just  as  sadly  as  he  can. 

In  the  fourth  place,  they  who  are  almost  Christians  are 
in  a  state  of  peculiar  danger.  They  are  in  danger  of  trust- 
ing in  their  seriousness  and  morality.  They  believe  and 
tremble ;  therefore  they  expect  to  be  saved.  But  they  be- 
lieve less  firmly  and  they  tremble  less  anxiously  than  a  lost 
soul,  and  will  he  be  saved?  They  hope  to  attract  the  pity 
of  Jehovah  because  they  are  in  continued  grief.  Yet  there 
is  a  world  where  there  is  weeping  and  wailing,  and  no  pity 
of  God  reaches  that  world.  They  think  to  gain  the  favor  of 
Jehovah  by  their  correct  outward  demeanor  when  it  is  re- 
vealed that  a  camel  might  have  gone  through  a  needle's 
eye  sooner  than  a  young  man  with  mere  outward  obedience 
would  have  entered  heaven. 


258  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 

They  are  in  peculiar  danger  from  another  source.  The 
Holy  Spirit  may  abandon  them.  Their  power  in  sinning  is 
fearfully  illustrated  by  the  command,  "Quench  not  the 
Spirit."  They  who  abuse  most  flagrantly  the  grace  that  is 
proffered,  they  who  have  been  warned  most  frequently  of 
their  danger,  and  entreated  most  constantly  to  repent  are 
the  men  whom  the  long-suffering  Comforter  gives  up  at 
length  to  their  continued  obstinacy.  Thou  art  not  far  from 
the  kingdom  of  God,  but  thou  canst  not  expect  so  long  a 
period  of  his  striving  as  thou  hast  enjoyed.  Thou  hast  re- 
ceived already,  I  fear,  the  greatest  part  of  thy  good  things ; 
and  "Let  him  alone"  may  soon  be  uttered  against  thy  un- 
grateful soul.  When  this  is  uttered  there  is  an  end  of  hope. 
No  sooner  does  the  Holy  Ghost  abandon  any  sinner  than 
that  sinner's  sentence  is  not  only  written  but  sealed.  What- 
ever he  can  do,  he  will  do  nothing  without  the  Spirit's  aid, 
but  sin  and  only  sin,  and  that  continually  and  forever.  But 
those  who  are  nearly  Christians  are  in  a  danger  the  most 
peculiar,  because  their  threatened  punishment  is  peculiarly 
fearful.  You  have  thought  more  than  your  neighbor  about 
God ;  in  this  you  have  done  wisely,  but  yet  in  this  very  act 
of  your  wisdom,  you  have  sinned  against  him  the  more. 
You  have  thought  more  about  heaven :  you  have  thus  re- 
fused it  more  frequently.  You  have  thought  more  about 
hell  and  been  more  willing  on  the  whole  to  endure  its  hor- 
rors. After  all  your  deliberations  you  have  preferred  on 
the  great  whole  to  perish  rather  than  submit.  God  will 
recompense  you  accordingly.  He  treats  all  men  in  corre- 
spondence with  their  prevailing  choice.    This  is  the  prin- 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  259 

ciple  of  the  divine  administration,  tO'  give  heaven  to  those 
who  choose  heaven  rather  than  sin ;  but  when  men  choose 
sin  rather  than  heaven  they  shall  have  what  they  choose. 
No  man  prefers  misery,  but  every  sinner  chooses  it  rather 
than  submission,  and  he  who  perseveres  in  sin  shall  have 
the  misery  that  is  intimately  connected  with  it.    It  is  so  in 
the  nature  of  things.     He  who  is  nearly  a  Christian  will 
have  remembrances,  for  example,  that  none  other  can  have. 
1  he  heathen  that  perishes  will  have  no  Sabbath  bell  to  be 
recalled  to  his  memory  when  he  shall  have  lain  down  in 
despair,  no  voice  of  the  man  of  God,  no  pulpit  from  which 
he  heard  warnings  to  repent,  no  Bibles,  nor  sermons  which 
had  once  awakened  his  attention,  but  had  been  abused  and 
trampled  upon.     But  the  serious  sinner  will  feel  with  pe- 
culiar keenness  his  loss  of  the  Bible,  of  Christian  counsel- 
lors, of  God's  house,  of  all  religious  addresses,  of  all  the 
means  of  grace,  of  all  prospect  of  conversion,  of  all  hope  of 
pardon.    All  the  influence  which  he  had  in  this  world  will 
be  like  a  burden  piled  upon  him  in  despair.    All  the  souls 
whom  he  had  injured  here  will  be  there  so  many  tormentors. 
Strangers  might  have  come  down  to  the  rich  man  in  his 
abode  of  woe  and  he  might  have    borne  it,  but  "my  five 
brethren"  whom  I  have  almost  ruined  ! — send  Lazarus  to  my 
five  brethren  lest  they  come  hither  to  heap  reproaches  upon 
me  and  add  to  my  torment  in  this  flame  of  remembrance. 
The  heavier  the  body  is,  the  more  painful  the  fall ;  and  the 
serious  sinner  is  laden  with  a  ponderous  weight  of  obliga- 
tion, that  if  he  do  fall  the  blow  will  be  as  severe  as  the  obH- 
gation  was  ponderous.     He  rises  high  toward  heaven  that 


26o  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 

if  he  do  sink  he  may  sink  as  low ;  his  descent  must  be  just 
as  deep  as  his  ascent  was  lofty ;  he  is  almost  a  Christian  that 
if  he  continue  in  sin  he  may  be  almost  a  demon ;  well-nigh 
to  the  top  of  heaven  that  if  he  fall  he  may  fall  well-nigh  to 
the  bottom  of  hell.  Oh,  how  near  he  now  is  to  Paradise ! 
and  the  very  nearness  will  be  the  instrument  of  his  agony. 
He  had  only  one  step  to  take  and  fell  before  he  took  it. 
Oh,  that  one  step !  He  will  think  of  it  again  and  again. 
That  one  step !  He  will  roll  the  thought  of  it  over  and  over 
in  his  mind — that  one  step !  only  one  step !  and  he  fell  be- 
fore he  took  it.  He  had  gone  to  the  threshhold  of  heaven, 
and  was  almost  determined  to  step  over  it,  now  that  he  had 
come  close  to  it.  Almost  there  was  joy  among  the  angels 
because  he  had  almost  consented  to  come  among  them. 
Almost  were  they  in  the  very  act  of  clothing  him  with  the 
best  robe,  and  putting  the  crown  upon  his  head.  They  were 
bending  over  the  walls  of  heaven,  and  whispering.  Let  no 
man  take  thy  crown;  put  on  thy  new  robe!  They  were 
stretching  out  their  arms  almost  near  enough  to  take  his 
hand,  and  were  quick  in  the  entreaty.  Just  raise  thy  hand ! 
raise  it  now  !  raise  it  before  it  is  too  late !  only  raise  it !  But 
he  lingered  and  delayed,  and  deliberated  and  pondered,  and 
said.  Not  yet,  not  yet,  until  on  a  sudden  it  was  too  late. 
The  patience  which  had  been  so  long  abused,  was  now  clean 
gone  forever,  and  he  fell  from  the  very  door  of  heaven,  and 
there  was  no  joy  among  the  angels  as  they  looked  at  the 
robe  almost  adorning  him,  and  the  crown  almost  upon  his 
head,  and  drew  in  their  extended  arms,  and  turned  away 
their   eyes   from  his   deep   damnation,  and   cried  aloud: 


NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  261 

Fallen !  He   is  fallen  from  the  heights   of   Zion,  and  as 
he  falls,  he  passes  many  a  transgressor  whom  the  world 
thought  more  guilty  than  himself ;  he  falls  to  his  own  place 
— that  place  peculiar  to  the  sinner  who  is  almost  a  Christian. 
My  friend,  you  who  are  near  the  kingdom  of  God,  within 
an  inch  of  heaven,  within  a  hand's  breadth  of  hell,  what  do 
you  mean?    So  near  the  gate  of  Paradise,  why  do  you  not 
enter?    Only  one  step  removed,  why  linger  in  taking  that 
one  step?     Nothing  to  do  but  to  knock  at  the  door,  how 
can  you  forbear  to  lift  your  hand?    Already  having  weath- 
ered so  many  storms,  why  will  you  carelessly  wreck  your 
vessel  just  as  it  arrives  in  port?    What  will  it  avail  you  to 
have  been  nearly  saved,  if  you  are  entirely  lost?  What  avail 
to  have  been  almost  in  heaven,  if  you  are  altogether  in  hell? 
What  does  it  profit  the  imprisoned  malefactor  to  know  that 
the  door  of  his  dungeon  is  but  one  inch  thick?    It  is  an  iron 
door  and  never  will  be  opened.     Christ  is  near  you ;  he  is 
holding  out  the  pardon  to  you.    Take  the  pardon,  he  says, 
giving  me  your  heart.     Take  the  pardon,  trusting  in  me 
as  your  friend.    Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary.    Ho, 
every  one  that  thirsteth!     "And  the  Spirit  and  the  bride 
say,  Come.    And  let  him  that  heareth  say.  Come.  .  .  .  And 
whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life" — "without 
money  and  without  price." 


PROFESSOR  PARK  AT  06 


Bust  by  Jackson,  of  Florence,  Italy,  from  sittings  given    in  Itoston  in   1S74,  and  now 
in  the  library  of  Andover  Theological  Seminary 


ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD  ARE 
COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE 


ALL    THE    MORAL    ATTRIBUTES    OF    GOD 
ARE    COMPREHENDED    IN    HIS    LOVE 

"God  is  love." — /  John  4:  16. 

What  is  the  character  of  Jehovah?  No  other  query  can 
be  so  interesting-  as  this.  We  are  inquisitive  to  learn  what 
were  the  traits  of  our  ancestors ;  but  our  dependence  on  an 
earthly  progenitor,  when  compared  with  our  dependence 
on  our  Father  in  heaven,  is  as  nothing-.  We  are  eager  to  in- 
quire what  is  the  disposition  of  our  rulers ;  but  Jehovah  is 
the  Potentate  on  whom  we  rely  for  our  very  breath.  We 
are  restless  to  ascertain  what  are  the  qualities  of  the  com- 
panion with  whom  we  must  be  associated  during  a  protract- 
ed journey  or  voyage ;  but  life  is  the  real  journey,  the  real 
voyage,  and  God  is  the  Being  with  whom  we  must  remain 
in  ceaseless  contiguity.  Sickness  will  not  separate  us  from 
him.  Death  will  augment  our  nearness  to  him.  Eternity 
will  be  spent  in  his  immediate  vision.  His  smile  or  frown 
we  shall  see  always.  His  voice  we  shall  hear  without  a 
pause.  Who,  then,  and  what,  is  this  Being,  so  much  more 
intimately  conjoined  with  us  than  is  any  ancestor,  so  much 
more  powerful  over  us  than  is  any  human  governor,  so 
much  nearer  to  us  than  is  any  earthly  companion?  Our  anx- 


266  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

ieties  are  relieved  by  the  answer  given  to  this  question  by 
our  text.  There  is  a  solace  in  the  very  words  of  it.  Not  in 
our  whole  langu,age  are  three  syllables  more  affluent  in 
meaning.  All  our  associations  with  the  word  "God"  are 
fitted  to  awaken  reverence.  All  our  associations  with  the 
word  "love"  call  forth  a  tenderness  of  interest ;  and  when 
the  awe  elicited  by  the  name  of  Jehovah  is  combined  with 
the  reciprocated  affection  elicited  by  the  idea  of  benevo- 
lence,— when  we  read  that  God  is  love, — we  are  amazed 
as  well  as  gladdened  by  the  enunciation,  and  we  inquire 
for  the  definite  meaning  and  the  practical  results  of  it. 

I.  Our  first  impulse  is  to  ascertain  the  precise  import  of 
the  words  in  our  text.  We  do  not  read  in  the  sacred  vol- 
ume that  Gabriel  is  benevolence,  nor  that  Michael  is  be- 
nevolence, nor  that  Abraham,  David,  Jeremiah,  Paul,  or 
even  John,  is  benevolence;  but  we  do  read  the  emphatic 
utterance,  "God  is  love."  Inspiration  does  not  inform  us 
that  Jehovah  is  all  power  or  all  knowledge,  that  he  is  un- 
changeableness  or  eternity,  but  he  is  love.  Not  merely 
are  we  assured  that  he  has  benevolence,  that  this  is  one 
among  other  feelings  which  he  puts  forth,  that  it  is  a  virtue 
which  appert,ains  to  him  even  as  we  read  that  "power  be- 
longeth  unto  God,"  but  he  is  benevolence  itself.  Of  course, 
he  possesses  natural  attributes,  such  as  omnipotence  and 
omniscience;  but  our  text  implies  that  these  are  controlled 
by  the  moral  choice  of  the  universal  well-being.  Of  course, 
he  feels  indignation  against  the  malice  of  his  enemies,  and 
an  infinite  disapproval  of  their  sin  in  every  form  of  it ;   but 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      267 

these  are  constitutional  sentiments,  and  our  text  implies  that 
they  are  subservient  to,  and  governed  by,  a  wise  preference 
for  the  welfare  of  the  universe.  We  should  render  but  little 
glory  to  his  power  or  knowledge  were  it  not  guided  by  a 
benignant  spirit.  We  should  recoil  from  his  eternity  and 
immutability  were  they  not  a  ceaseless  duration  of  a  love 
which  comprehends  all  the  virtues,  and  knows  not  the  shad- 
ow of  a  change.  While,  then,  our  text  implies  indirectly 
that  all  the  natural  attributes  and  involuntary  sentiments  of 
Jehovah  are  controlled  and  ennobled  by  his  good  will,  it 
implies  also  that  all  his  moral  choice  is  the  choice  of  the 
general  rather  than  the  private  welfare  of  sentient  beings ; 
it  is  the  elective  preference  for  the  greater  above  the 
smaller,  for  the  higher  above  the  lower,  the  welfare  of  all 
beings  who  have  a  capacity  for  either  holiness  or  happiness. 
This  choice  or  elective  preference  is  put  forth  on  the  ground 
of,  and  in  proportion  to,  the  worth  or  value  of  those 
beings.  In  the  Biblical  language  it  is  called  love,  and  thus 
by  a  figure  substituting  the  act  for  the  agent,  God  is  love, 

11.  Having  thus  explained  the  meaning  of  the  text,  let  us 
proceed,  in  the  second  place,  to  prove  its  main  doctrine, 
that  all  the  free  chorees  of  the  Most  High  are  comprehend- 
ed in  a  single,  continuous  preference  for  the  largest  and 
highest  well-being  of  the  universe. 

I.  One  proof  is  derived  from  the  fact  that  all  goodness 
of  heart  is  by  the  inspired  writers  summed  up  in  love.  They 
require  of  us  nothing  more  or  less  than  to  be  perfect,  as 
our  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect,  and  they  affirm  that  all  the 


268  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

law  is  fulfilled  in  one  word :  "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself."  The  law  is  a  transcript  of  the  divine  perfec- 
tions ;  by  learning"  what  his  commands  are,  we  learn  what 
God  is ;  yet  "he  that  loveth  another  hath  fulfilled  the  law." 
So  says  an  apostle,  and  he  elsewhere  teaches  that  love  is 
the  fulfilling  of  the  law — the  very  law  which  requires  all 
our  duties,  and  is  "exceeding  broad."  We  are  assured 
that  all  gifts  of  tongues  and  of  prophecy,  all  knowledge  and 
faith,  all  outward  virtues  are  nothing,  and  profit  nothing, 
without  love.  They  may  be  the  body  of  virtue,  but  love  is 
the  soul  of  it.  They  may  be  the  concomitants  of  virtue,  but 
love  is  its  essence.  We  are  informed  that  the  end  of  the 
commandment — its  final  purpose,  its  ultimate  design,  to 
which  all  the  parts  of  it  aim  and  point — is  love,  not  by 
any  means  an  involuntary  kindness,  but  a  free,  loving 
choice.  The  most  spiritual  expounder  of  the  divine  law 
has  taught  us  that  "this  is  the  first  and  great  com- 
mandment: Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind; 
and  the  second  is  like  unto  it :  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself.  On  these  two  commandments  hang 
all  the  law  and  the  prophets."  Where  there  is  no 
comprehensive  love,  no  benignant  election  of  the  gen- 
eral welfare,  there  may  be  amiable  instincts,  beautiful 
sentiments,  but  there  is  no  true  moral  goodness.  It  is 
the  first  and  the  last  teaching  of  the  Bible, — on  the  surface 
of  it  and  in  the  depths  of  it, — that  the  highest  of  all  virtues 
is  the  choice  of  God  as  our  supreme  object  of  regard ;  and 
if  there  be  any  other  commandment,  it  is  briefly  compre- 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      269 

hended  in  this  saying:    "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself." 

2.  An  examination  of  the  nature  of  God's  moral  attri- 
butes gives  a  second  proof  that  they  are  all  involved  in  the 
choice  of  the  general  welfare.  What  are  these  attributes? 
One  of  them  is  a  voluntary  regard  for  the  happiness  of  be- 
ings considered  as  merely  sentient.  This  is  unmodified  be- 
nevolence. Another  moral  perfection  still  more  attractive 
is  a  love  for  the  happiness  of  beings  considered  as  miser- 
able. This  is  mercy  and  this  is  benevolence  combined  with 
constitutional  pity,  and  the  holiness  of  it  lies  in  the  volun- 
tary good  will  rather  than  in  the  mere  natural  compassion. 
A  yet  brighter  moral  attribute  of  God  is  a  regard  for  the 
welfare  of  beings  considered  as  evil-doers.  This  is  grace, 
and  this  is  benevolence  associated  with  a  natural  disappro- 
bation of  wrong,  and  the  holiness  of  it  consists  in  the  free 
benevolence,  rather  than  in  the  disapproving  act  of  con- 
science. 

One  adorable  moral  attribute  of  Jehovah  is  holiness 
viewed  as  love  toward  all  that  is  morally  right  and  as  ha- 
tred toward  all  that  is  morally  wrong;  viewed  as  love 
toward  benevolence  not  merely  because  benevolence  is 
connected  with  happiness,  but  also  because  it  is  a  good  in  its 
own  nature ;  viewed  as  hatred  toward  malevolence  not 
merely  because  malevolence  is  adverse  to  happiness,  but 
also  because  it  is  an  evil  in  its  own  nature.  Now  the  benevo- 
lence of  Jehovah  comprehends  a  love  for  all  that  is  good, 
and  benevolence  is  itself  a  good, — its  very  name  is  moral 
goodness.    The  benevolence  of  Jehovah  comprehends  a  ha- 


270  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

tred  of  all  that  is  evil,  and  malevolence  is  itself  an  evil, — its 
very  name  is  moral  evil.  As  the  love  exercised  by  Jehovah 
is  a  choice  of  the  general  rather  than  of  a  private  good,  so 
its  alternate  form  is  a  rejection  of  the  private  rather  than  of 
the  general  good.  His  hatred  of  sin  is  in  its  essence  the 
same  virtue  as  his  preference  for  the  greater  above  the 
smaller  well-being  of  the  universe,  himself  included  in  the 
universe.  His  hatred  of  wrong  is  the  same  virtue  with,  and 
is  only  the  alternate  form  of,  his  love  of  right ;  and  right 
though  connected  with  happiness  is  distinct  from  and  nobler 
than  mere  happiness,  as  wrong  though  connected  with  mis- 
ery is  distinct  from  and  worse  than  simple  misery.  Thus 
the  holiness  of  God  is  a  form  of  benevolence. 

Another  of  his  moral  attributes  is  justice.  Is  this  a  form 
of  love?  As  the  benevolence  of  God  is  an  elective  prefer- 
ence for  the  higher  above  the  lower  kind,  and  for  the 
larger  above  the  smaller  amount,  of  the  general  well-being,^ 
so  in  its  very  nature  it  involves  a  choice  to  bestow  a  reward 
upon  all  who  strictly  deserve  and  can  fitly  claim  to  be  re- 
warded for  exercising  the  same  kind  of  preference,  and  it 
also  involves  a  choice  to  inflict  a  punishment  upon  all  who 
remain  under  law,  and  who  deserve  to  be  punished  for  ex- 

^  Some  writers  appear  to  make  a  distinction  between  "welfare" 
and  "well-being" ;  to  use  "welfare"  as  generic,  including  both  happi- 
ness which  they  term  "well-being"  and  also  moral  goodness  which 
they  term  "well-doing."  The  distinction  is  convenient  and  deserves 
to  be  considered,  but  it  is  not  adopted  generally.  The  happiness  is 
so  indissolubly  connected  with  the  moral  "well-doing,"  and  the  high- 
est form  of  happiness  is  so  inextricably  involved  in  the  process  of 
this  "well-doing,"  that  the  two  conditions  are  both  expressed  by  the 
word  "well-being"  as  synonymous  with  the  word  "welfare." 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      271 

ercising  the  contrary  preference.  As  the  love  of  right  has 
for  its  alternate  form  a  hatred  of  wrong,  so  the  choice  to 
bestow  a  reward  upon  those  who  strictly  deserve  and  can 
justly  claim  to  be  rewarded  has  for  its  alternate  form  a 
choice  to  inflict  a  punishment  upon  those  who  while  under 
law  deserve  to  be  punished.  It  is  very  true  that  God  does 
not  look  upon  our  holiness  as  entitled  on  the  ground  of  its 
own  merit  to  the  recompense  of  happiness.  If  he  did  look 
upon  it  as  having  this  merit  of  condignity,  his  will  to  be- 
stow the  deserved  recompense  would  be  comprehended  in 
good-will  to  the  universe.  But  he  does  look  upon  our  sin 
as  in  its  own  nature  deserving  the  recompense  of  pain ;  his 
will  to  inflict  this  merited  recompense  is  not  ill  will  to  the 
universe;  it  is  good  will.  The  volition  to  inflict  a  just  pen- 
alty on  a  foe  to  the  common  good  has  the  same  nature  with 
a  volition  to  bestow  a  strictly  just  reward  on  a  friend  to  the 
common  good.  The  two  volitions  are  the  positive  and  neg- 
ative poles  of  one  comprehensive  choice.  Thus  our  Ruler  is 
comprehensively  benevolent  in  being  just.  He  is  just,  not 
in  despite  of,  but  on  account  of,  his  benevolence.  His  will 
to  punish  transgressors  according  to  their  demerit  is  at- 
tended with  displacency  and  indignation  toward  moral  evil ; 
but  these  sentiments  are  the  guard  and  the  outward  maj- 
esty, rather  than  the  essence,  of  the  virtue  that  is  ad- 
mired in  the  justice/ 

Yet  another  moral  attribute  of  the  Most  High  is  veracity. 
And  is  this  love?  It  is  a  choice  to  promote  the  natural  or 
moral  welfare  of  beings  by  using  the  signs  of  thought  in 

^  Note  13  in  Appendix. 


272  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

exact  conformity  with  the  thought  itself.  What,  then,  is 
this  attribute  more  than  a  preference  for  the  dignity  and 
virtue  of  all  beings  capable  of  dignity  and  virtue ;  the  pref- 
erence being  associated  with  and  adorned  by  an  involun- 
tary, and  therefore  not  a  moral,  sense  of  fitness? 

These  are  the  divine  attributes  which  consist  in  the  re- 
sponsible exercise  of  free  will.  They  are  modifications  of 
one  generic  choice  animating  the  different  sensibilities  as- 
sociated with  it. 

3.  The  past  history  of  God's  dispensations  gives  a  third 
proof  that  all  his  moral  excellences  are  comprehended  in 
his  choice  of  the  general  well-being.  His  entire  character 
is  indicated  when  the  omnipotent  Monarch  converses  with 
Moses  like  a  friend,  becomes  as  intimate  with  David  as  if 
he  were  only  an  equal  to  a  shepherd  boy,  dries  up  the  tears 
of  Jeremiah,  and  as  a  mother  tends  her  children  so  does  he 
fold  all  the  prophets  in  his  embrace.  There  are  acts  of  God 
which,  because  they  have  other  natural  elements,  appear  to 
have  some  other  moral  element  than  that  of  good  will.  The 
sensibilities  connected  with  his  affection  for  men  when 
they  do  right  are  different  from  the  sensibilities  connected 
with  his  aversion  to  them  when  they  do  wrong;  but  the 
moral  principle  in  both  exercises  is  the  same.  It  was  pri- 
marily because  he  yearned  with  an  infinite  kindness  over 
the  antediluvian  world  that,  in  the  simple  language  of  in- 
spiration, the  sight  of  human  depravity  made  him  repent 
that  he  had  created  man,  and  grieved  him  at  his  heart.  It 
was  originally  because  he  cherished  a  pure  love  for  those 
transgressors  that   he   hated  their  waste  of  probationary 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      273 

time  in  eating  and  drinking,  without  care  or  thought  of 
spiritual  truth.  It  was  first  because  he  dehghted  in  the 
spiritual  peace  of  society  that  he  abhorred  the  race  by 
whom  the  earth  was  filled  with  violence.  It  was  because 
his  benevolence  prompted  him  to  check  the  tide  of  their 
corruption  that  he  poured  the  flood  upon  them,  and  made 
their  sudden  overthrow  a  motive  to  deter  future  genera- 
tions from  their  imbruted  life.  The  retributions  which  he 
sent  upon  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  were  effluences  of  his 
choice  to  promote  the  highest  welfare  of  his  universe.  Had 
he  not  preferred  their  well-being,  he  would  not  have 
loathed  their  belittling  usages;  and  had  he  not  chosen  to 
prevent  the  contagion  of  their  sin,  he  would  not  have  burned 
up  their  cities,  even  as  a  pest-house  is  consumed  when  its 
very  atmosphere  becomes  infectious.  And  with  what  signs 
of  tenderness  is  all  this  needful  discipline  relieved!  "Shall 
I  hide  from  Abraham  that  thing  which  I  do?"  said  the  kind 
Father,  who  would  never  have  raised  his  hand  against  his 
children  unless  their  sin  against  him  had  been  very  griev- 
ous. And  does  not  the  confiding  language  of  Abraham  at- 
test his  intimate  conviction  that  the  just  Judge  is  even  be- 
nignant? For  with  what  a  childlike  trust  does  the  patri- 
arch intercede  with  his  Maker:  "Wilt  thou  destroy  the 
righteous  with  the  wicked?.  .  .  That  be  far  from  thee  to  do 
after  this  manner. . . .  Peradventure  there  shall  lack  five  of 
the  fifty  righteous :  wilt  thou  destroy  all  the  city  for  the  lack 
of  five?"  And  He  to  whom  punishment  is  a  strange  work 
reveals  his  character  in  the  reply:  "If  there  be  ten  righteous 
found  in  the  city,  I  will  not  destroy  it  for  ten's  sake."    So 


274  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

generous  are  the  compassions  of  the  Lord,  that  when  he 
threatened  the  men  of  Nineveh  with  dire  ruin,  he  was 
quick  to  pardon  them  at  their  incipient  reformation.  In- 
imitable was  the  sympathy  which  flowed  from  him  as  he 
pleaded  with  the  unyielding  prophet  in  behalf  of  these 
guilty  men,  and  justified  his  readiness  to  forgive  their  sins 
and  relieve  their  terrors :  "And  should  I  not  spare  that 
great  city,  wherein  are  more  than  sixscore  thousand  per- 
sons that  cannot  discern  between  their  right  hand  and  their 
left  hand;  and  also  much  cattle?"  He  hesitates  to  over- 
throw the  magnificent  palaces  inhabited  by  transgressors 
whose  hearts  are  harder  than  the  marble  in  which  they  live, 
because  round  about  those  palaces  are  the  mute  animals 
which  his  love  has  called  into  life,  and  in  his  love  they  all 
live  and  breathe.  Manifold  are  the  developments  of  divine 
justice,  some  of  which  have  caused  the  ears  of  the  men  who 
heard  them  to  tingle;  but  the  spirit  of  them  all  is  illustrated 
in  that  one  deed  of  the  Holy  and  Just  One,  who  "so  loved 
the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  who- 
soever believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  ever- 
lasting life."  Herein  is  love, — justice  also,  but  justice  in- 
volving the  moral  element  of  love, — not  that  we  loved  God, 
but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation 
for  our  sins,  with  which  sins  he  is  most  fully  displeased,  but 
over  which  he  chooses  that  his  grace  reign  triumphant. 

III.  Having  now  considered  the  meaning  of  our  text 
and  the  proof  of  the  doctrine  involved  in  it,  let  us,  thirdly, 
consider  some  of  the  practical  truths  which  result  from  it. 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      275 

I.  The  doctrine  suggests  the  unity  of  God's  character 
and  government.  All  the  varying  tones  of  an  anthem  de- 
light us,  when  we  catch  the  one  sentiment  which  vivifies 
them.  We  are  charmed  with  the  cathedral,  whose  choir, 
nave,  turrets  have  such  fitnesses  to  each  other  as  to  make  an 
undivided  impression.  The  planetary  system  we  admire  for 
the  simple  force  which  controls  its  movements.  All  the 
works  of  the  great  Architect  afiford  a  symbol  of  the  unity 
which  exists  in  himself.  One  great  principle  permeates  the 
phenomena  of  the  suns  and  the  stars,  just  as  a  single  moral 
feeling  is  expressed  in  the  countless  acts  of  Him  who  de- 
velops his  unity  even  in  his  material  creations.  Much  more 
does  he  exhibit  a  oneness  in  his  law.  Beautiful  is  the  sim- 
pHcity  of  all  his  commandments.  As  he  requires  that  we 
love  sentient  beings,  so  he  is  consistent  with  himself,  and 
requires  a  special  love  for  his  own  offspring,  who  are  the 
objects  of  his  kind  care,  and  who  are  made  in  his  image,  a 
part  of  which  they  still  retain.  There  is  a  wise  proportion  in 
the  mandate.  With  all  thy  heart  shalt  thou  love  the  Infinite 
One,  who  encloses  the  universe  in  his  affection,  and  as  thy- 
self shalt  thou  love  thy  neighbor,  who  is  finite,  and  has  no 
claim  on  all  thy  heart  and  soul  and  mind  and  strength,  but 
is  presumed  to  be  thine  equal  in  merit,  and  is  accordingly 
to  be  loved  as  thyself.  The  harmony  which  pervades  the 
character  of  God  moves  him  to  call  for  our  repentance.  For 
what  is  repentance?  It  is  a  hatred  for  our  sin,  and  involves 
a  sorrow  for  it.  And  what  has  been  our  sin?  It  has  been  a 
choice  of  something  other  than  the  highest  good.  Our 
voluntary  hatred  of  this  choice,  then,  is  but  another  form  of 


276  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

our  love  to  the  highest  good ;  and  this  is  our  benevolence,  as 
well  as  our  repentance,  and  is  in  beautiful  agreement  with 
the  character  of  Him  who  hateth  all  opposition  to  the  so- 
cial and  moral  improvement  of  the  universe.  If  we  mourn 
over  our  iniquities,  we  must  rely  for  our  eternal  life  on  Him 
who  died  for  them.  But  this  reliance  is  mere  presumption, 
unless  it  be  prompted  by  love,  and  commingled  with  it.  Ac- 
cordingly, God  requires  faith, — not  the  faith  which  is  a 
tinkling  cymbal,  being  devoid  of  charity,  but  the  faith  which 
clings  with  affection  to  the  atoning  Sacrifice;  the  affection- 
ateness  of  the  faith  embracing  that  moral  principle  which 
in  the  Biblical  style  is  called  love,  and  in  the  style  of  some 
divines  is  called  a  supreme  choice  of  God,  of  his  character, 
of  his  moral  government.  Being  commanded  to  believe  in 
Christ,  we  are  also  commanded  to  exercise  fortitude,  cour- 
age, submission,  patience,  perseverance;  not  merely  to 
feel  the  sentiments  which  fit  us  to  encounter  and  endure 
pain, — these  are  cherished  by  savages,  by  unrenewed,  ob- 
durate transgressors, — but  to  put  forth  the  moral  prefer- 
ences which  fit  us  to  do  and  bear  all  things  so  that  we  may 
please  Him  whom  we  love  because  He  hath  first  loved  us. 
And  as  our  one  Sovereign  has  thus  prescribed  for  us  a 
symmetrical  code  of  precepts,  so  has  he  oflfered  heaven  to 
us  on  conditions  congruous  with  one  another.  He  tries 
every  inducement  in  varying  the  phases  of  the  one  prin- 
ciple that  he  who  believeth  shall  be  saved.  He  proffers 
heaven  to  us  on  the  condition  that  we  visit  the  fatherless 
and  the  widow  in  their  affliction,  that  we  relieve  the  solitude 
of  the  prisoner,  put  garments  on  the  unclothed,  welcome 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      277 

the  stranger  to  our  fireside,  supply  the  hungry  with  bread, 
reach  out  the  cup  of  cold  water  to  one  who  is  athirst, — all 
these  charities  being  performed  with  such  a  love  for  the 
destitute  as  is  proportioned  to  their  worth,  and  such  a  love 
for  their  Maker  as  agrees  with  his  supreme  claims.  Who- 
soever shall  keep  the  least  of  the  commandments  shall 
not  lose  his  reward,  even  as  he  who  offends  in  one  point  vi- 
olates the  whole  law.  Not  more  obvious  is  it  that  one  vital 
force  extends  through  every  nerve,  vein,  artery,  of  the  body 
than  is  the  fact  that  one  principle  vitalizes  the  entire  law 
and  the  entire  gospel. 

It  is  in  consequence  of  this  one  principle  that  all  the  con- 
ditions on  which  our  eternal  welfare  are  suspended  may  be 
easily  understood.  Each  one  explains  every  other.  Chil- 
dren, who  learn  the  meaning  of  a  hard  word  by  its  con- 
nection with  a  plain  one,  catch  the  significance  of  a  recon- 
dite part  of  the  law  by  its  union  with  the  single  element  of 
love  which  pervades  the  entire  law.  The  wayfaring  man, 
though  a  fool,  need  not  err  in  regard  to  the  way  of  sal- 
vation: for  whatever  might  be  dark  if  insulated  borrows 
light  from  its  adjuncts — they  all  shining  in  the  radiance  of 
love. 

Heartily,  then,  do  we  rejoice  in  the  assurance  not  only 
that  there  is  one  God,  but  that  God  is  one  in  his  moral  at- 
tributes. Our  mind  is  like  a  sea,  whose  waters  are  restless 
even  in  their  lowest  depths.  We  have  tendencies  in  our 
inferior  nature  warring  against  the  higher  principles  of  our 
being.  Our  life  is  a  struggle,  a  wrestle,  a  fight  of  affliction. 
We  crucify  ourselves  in  the  combat  with  our  inward  foes, 


278  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

but  we  rejoice  that  there  is  a  mind  free  from  the  complexi- 
ties and  discrepancies  that  mar  our  character;  having  no 
inward  strife  to  quell,  no  intestine  contradictions  to  rec- 
oncile, no  disparities  nor  inaptitudes  to  subdue.  We  are 
calmed  by  the  announcement,  "/  am  that  I  am;"  for  this 
indicates  an  elevation  above  all  inward  fears ;  and  the  heav- 
enly rest  begins  in  our  hearts  when  we  drink  in  the  full, 
conciliating,  alluring  words,  "God  is  love." 

2.  The  fact  that  all  the  moral  attributes  of  Jehovah  are 
comprised  in  benevolence  shows  that  he  is  amiable  amid 
his  severest  dispensations.  Men  have  imagined  that  his  be- 
nignity is  incompatible  with  the  infliction  of  pain.  They 
have  supposed  his  love  to  be  an  easiness  of  spirit,  an  unintel- 
ligent aversion  to  all  forms  of  distress.  Will  a  sensitive 
father,  it  is  asked,  consign  his  own  offspring  to  perpetual 
agony?  Can  a  mother  endure,  will  she  willingly  allow,  the 
sufferings  of  her  babe?  To  God,  his  creatures  are  dearer 
than  are  children  to  an  earthly  parent,  and  will  he  afflict 
them?  But  the  benevolence  of  our  spiritual  parent  is  not 
an  irrational  partiality  for  our  race.  It  were  degraded  by 
confounding  it  with  an  instinctive  liking,  a  constitutional, 
sympathetic  fondness.  It  is  a  remark  of  Leighton:  "God 
governs  the  world  as  a  father,  not  as  a  mother."  His  love  is 
an  intelligent  affection,  not  for  one  man,  not  for  one  family 
or  tribe  or  race  or  world,  but  for  all  beings  who  can  think 
or  feel;  a  preference  for  the  system  above  a  small  part 
thereof;  for  the  general  happiness  above  an  individual's 
pleasure ;  for  the  common  holiness  above  the  universal 
enjoyment.    High  as  the  heavens  above  the  earth  is  the  be- 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE    279^ 

nevolence  of  God  above  an  indifference  to  the  virtue  of  men 
— above  a  willingness  that  they  seek  first  their  own  comfort 
even  if  they  must  find  it  in  selfish  aims.  What  though  a 
doting  parent  connives  at  the  transgressions  of  his  children 
rather  than  discompose  their  spirits  which  ought  to  be  dis- 
turbed in  their  guilty  course?  The  government  of  our 
heavenly  Father  is  more  extended  than  that  of  a  family  on 
earth;  it  reaches  the  bounds  of  the  universe;  it  therefore  re- 
quires more  care  in  preventing  sin ;  it  extends  to  the  heart ; 
it  is  a  deep  moral  government;  it  has  access  to  all  sources 
of  evidence;  it  is  able  to  adapt  its  penalties  to  all  forms  of 
evil;  then  it  is  not  to  be  debased  by  accommodating  it 
to  the  superficial,  outward,  ephemeral  policy  of  a  narrow 
household,  or  of  a  nation. 

Besides,  imperfect  and  shallow  as  are  the  principles  of 
domestic  and  civil  government,  a  wise  benevolence  does  not 
allow  that  even  this  government  pass  by,  with  an  easy  good 
nature,  the  crimes  which  it  can  detect.  It  is  no  true  friend- 
ship for  society  to  dipense  with  penal  enactments.  What 
chaos  reigns  in  a  family,  where  the  sons  prove  vile,  and  the 
father  restrains  them  not!  What  havoc  would  overspread 
our  land,  if  our  laws  with  their  righteous  penalties  did  not 
stay  the  irruption  of  crime  !  Not  a  street  but  assassins  would 
infest  it,  not  a  dwelling  but  incendiaries  would  bury  its 
sleeping  inmates  under  its  ashes — if  the  strong  arm  of  the 
magistrate  were  not  raised  in  kindness  to  the  widow  and  the 
orphan,  protecting  them  and  their  possessions  from  the  as- 
sault, shielding  also  their  spirits  from  fear  of  vagabonds 
and  marauders.    All  this  is  but  a  crude  symbol  of  the  be- 


28o  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

neficence  which  lifts  up  the  standard  of  law  for  the  universe. 
If  the  petty  sovereignties  of  the  earth  must  raise  walls  of 
protection  around  the  homes  of  men  and  guard  the  sick  and 
the  weak  from  the  knife  of  the  freebooter,  how  much  more 
imperative  is  the  need  that  a  vigilant  dominion  be  estab- 
lished over  the  entire  system  of  moral  agents;  that  merited 
penalties  be  held  out  for  the  transgressors  in  our  world,  so 
as  to  secure  the  innocence  of  nobler  spirits  in  higher  worlds ; 
that  incorrigible  sinners  now  existing  be  punished  as  they 
deserve  in  order  to  accumulate  new  persuasives  to  holiness 
upon  the  minds  which  are  to  exist  in  all  future  duration! 
Even  if  the  contracted  and  external  institutions  of  men 
could  be  safely  left  to  the  principles  of  non-resistance — de- 
bilitating principles,  enervating,  emasculating, — still  the 
larger  and  spiritual  dominion  of  the  Universal  Monarch  de- 
mands that  the  wicked  shall  by  no  means  go  unpunished. 
Therefore  it  is  the  benevolence  of  Jehovah  which  leads  him 
to  be  severe.  Penalties  he  must  threaten  in  order  to  ar- 
rest the  inroads  of  sin,  for  sin  is  ruin;  and  what  he  threat- 
ens he  must  inflict,  for  he  is  veracious,  and  his  inflictions 
will  secure  the  tempted  from  the  guilt  into  which  they 
would  otherwise  plunge.  To  the  right  hand,  further  than 
the  imagination  can  wander;  to  the  left  hand,  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  quickest  and  most  extended  thought,  above  us 
and  below  us,  behind  us  and  before  us,  through  all  time  and 
eternity,  do  the  influences  of  his  government  penetrate. 
His  laws  affect  all  spirits  that  have  been,  are,  or  are  to  be. 
If  a  single  edict  should  be  repealed,  or  a  single  penalty  mit- 
igated, he  foresees  the  havoc  which  would  ensue,  and  his 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      281 

kindness  forbids  the  abrogation  of  a  single  iota  of  his  com- 
mands. He  is  touched  with  pity  for  his  frail  children,  who 
need  all  allowable  motives  to  deter  them  from  apostasy. 
He  will  afiflict  his  enemies  because  he  chooses  to  defend  the 
cause  of  virtue  against  their  machinations,  and  he  will  ban- 
ish them  from  his  presence,  so  that  the  good  and  the  kind, 
who  will  be  the  real  majority  of  his  universe,  may  be  at 
peace.  There  shall  nothing  hurt  the  conscience  or  destroy 
the  spirit  of  repose  in  the  heavenly  Jerusalem;  but  all  shall 
be  serene,  and  he  who  is  love  shall  reign  in  the  affection  of 
all  the  wise. 

3.  The  concentration  of  all  God's  moral  attributes  in 
love  illustrates  the  guilt  and  misery  of  incorrigible  trans- 
gressors. In  modern  as  well  as  ancient  poetry,  we  read  of 
the  human  conscience  as  unpitying,  unrelenting,  cruel, 
revengeful,  tormenting  the  malefactor  with  a  scorpion  lash. 
Of  all  such  epithets  we  say  that  they  are  poetry;  they  have 
a  deep  meaning ;  they  imply  that  the  conscience  is  just,  is 
our  highest  inward  authority,  deserves  our  obedience,  our 
homage.  The  epithets  are  so  strong  because  the  moral 
sense  is  so  important  and  exalted.  It  is  our  best  friend; 
and  faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend.  Men  do  not  lose 
their  veneration  for  the  moral  faculty  because  the  poets  ar- 
ray it  in  robes  of  terror.  Why  then  should  they  lose  their 
confidence  in  God  because  the  inspired  poets  tell  us  of  his 
fury,  jealousy,  vengeance,  the  fierceness  of  his  wrath;  his 
sword,  arrows;  his  laughing  at  his  adversaries?  As  we 
know  that  bold  figures  of  speech  are  employed  for  express- 
ing the  reproofs  of  our  inward    monitor  which  is  a  cor- 


282  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

relate  to  the  divine  justice,  why  do  we  wonder  that  bold 
figures  are  employed  for  expressing  the  normal  activity 
of  the  justice  itself?  These  figures  impress  upon  us  two 
momentous  truths.  One  is  that  Jehovah  has  the  con- 
stitutional sentiment  of  indignation  against  sin;  another  is 
that  he  opposes  iniquity  by  such  manifestations  of  his  ab- 
horrence as  cannot  be  intimated  in  literal  speech.  Human 
language  is  inadequate  to  indicate  the  depth  of  his  love 
for  the  right  and  his  hatred  of  the  wrong.  He  is  said 
to  be  angry  as  he  is  said  to  repent.  The  words  have 
an  unutterable  meaning.  Perhaps  no  others  would  be 
so  impressive  upon  the  human  race  as  a  whole.  They  sug- 
gest what  no  tongue  can  possibly  express.  We  must  re- 
member that  even  in  our  best  descriptions  of  the  Most  High 

"Thought  is  deeper  than   all   speech, 
Feeling  deeper  than  all  thought." 

Our  text  assures  us,  however,  that  no  unhallowed,  no 
bitter  feeling  ever  rises  in  the  divine  mind.  That  mind  is 
love.  That  mind,  however,  has  enemies.  These  enemies 
demean  themselves  as  if  their  Ruler  were  tyrannical  and 
cruel.  A  stranger  to  them  would  not  imagine  that  they 
were  resisting  a  benefactor,  a  friend  faithful  in  their  need, 
an  ever-watchful  guardian,  more  than  a  parent,  very  pitiful, 
and  of  tender  mercy.  The  aggravation  of  their  guilt  is  that 
they  are  in  conflict  with  goodness  itself;  they  are  in  direct 
antagonism  to  the  impersonation  of  all  pure  friendship; 
they  recoil  from  a  being  who  not  only  loves  them  but  is 
the  sum  of  love.    They  reject  him  not  only  while  he  is  be- 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      283 

nevolence,  but  because  he  is  impartial  benevolence.  If  he 
would  love  the  few  more  than  the  many,  and  if  they  them- 
selves were  among  these  few,  they  would  not  reject  him. 
If  he  would  sacrifice  the  general  welfare  to  their  own  sinis- 
ter aims,  they  would  not  rebel  against  him.  But  he  pre- 
fers the  higher  to  the  lower  interests,  the  welfare  of  the 
many  to  that  of  the  few;  he  chooses  to  promote  the  holy 
bliss  of  heaven,  and  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  stars  of  heaven, 
than  to  accommodate  the  narrow  policy  of  selfish  men; 
therefore  selhsh  men  discard  him.  If  we  had  not  known 
him  to  be  love  itself,  we  had  been  comparatively  without  sin; 
but  now  we  have  seen  and  known  both  him  and  his  Son, 
who  is  the  express  image  of  the  Father's  love,  and  hence 
our  sin  remaineth.  The  demerit  of  it  he  has  measured.  He 
has  declared  that  unending  punishment  is  the  fit  exponent 
of  the  sinner's  ill-desert.  He  hateth  nothing  which  he  hath 
made.  He  doth  not  afflict  willingly.  He  heareth  the  young 
ravens  when  they  are  in  want.  He  counteth  the  tears  that 
are  to  flow  from  men.  He  is  unwilling  that  any  of  his  crea- 
tures should  heave  a  sigh.  He  is  slow  to  elicit  one  groan. 
He  hath  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  an  enemy.  He  chooseth 
that  all  come  to  him  and  dwell  in  bliss.  But  with  all  these 
yearnings  of  a  Father's  heart,  he  avers  that  the  demerit  of 
sin  cannot  be  fully  manifested  except  by  setting  over 
against  it  the  pain-  which  is  never  to  end.  In  his  grace  and 
longsuffering  he  has  forewarned  us  of  our  peril ;  he  has  not 
taken  us  by  surprise;  in  his  equity  he  has  held  out  before 
us  the  balances  in  which  our  sin  is  laid, — in  one  scale  a  re- 
jection of  his  love;  in  the  other,  an  eternity  of  woe, — the 


284  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

very  woe  which  he,  of  all  other  beings,  is  the  most  unwil- 
ling to  inflict, — unwilling  because  he  is  love;  and  still  he 
does  inflict  it  because  he  is  impartial,  wise,  just  love. 

Here,  then,  is  the  divine  estimate  of  our  blameworthiness. 
We  may  underrate  it,  but  the  Omniscient  Judge  has  gauged 
it  accurately.  We  are  partial  to  our  own  character,  but  his 
affection  even  for  us  transcends  our  own  self-love.  He  then 
cannot  exaggerate  our  turpitude ;  and  the  estimate  which 
has  been  formed  of  it  by  his  boundless  wisdom  is  one  which 
his  boundless  compassion  is  slow  to  express,  for  punishment 
is  his  last  work;  at  the  day  of  judgment  the  condemning 
sentence  is  the  last  sentence.  If  he  were  literally  revengeful, 
his  punitive  sentence  might  be  borne.  If  he  delighted  in 
the  misery  of  his  offspring,  they  would  buoy  themselves  up 
against  him,  and  their  sense  of  right  would  alleviate  their 
distress.  But  it  is  not  an  enemy  that  afflicts  them,  and  this 
is  the  emphasis  of  their  grief.  Their  sorrows  come  from 
him  who  has  cried:  How  shall  I  give  thee  up?  why  will  ye 
die?  I  have  no  pleasure  in  your  loss. 

This  is  the  depressing  thought  ever  weighing  down  the 
soul  of  the  condemned:  "We  are  punished  by  Him  who  had 
never  disturbed  our  peace  but  for  the  universal  well-being. 
We  are  in  heaviness  of  heart,  because  He  who  once  bare 
long  with  us  could  endure  our  rebellion  no  longer.  Our 
weariness  cometh  from  the  displeasure  of  One  who  is  never 
displeased  save  by  evil.  Our  own  reason  is  our  first  accuser. 
Our  own  conscience  is  our  first  avenger.  Here  is  the  proof 
of  our  vileness:  we  have  caused  our  own  troubles,  and  our 
Friend  who  is  ever  compassionate  is  not  allowed  by  his  in- 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE   285 

finite  g-oodness  to  relieve  us  from  them,  and  his  reason  for 
continuing  to  inflict  them  is,  that  he  is  watching  for  the  wel- 
fare of  his  system."  The  Omniscient  Mind  expresses  the 
wonderfulness  of  our  disregard  for  the  welfare  of  this  sys- 
tem when  he  says:  "Hear,  O  heavens,  and  give  ear,  O 
earth:  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken,  I  have  nourished  and 
brought  up  children,  and  they  have  rebelled  against  me." 
"Be  astonished,  O  ye  heavens,  at  this,  and  be  horribly 
afraid,  be  ye  very  desolate,  saith  the  Lord.  For  my  people 
have  committed  two  evils:  they  have  forsaken  me  the  foun- 
tain of  living  waters,  and  hewed  them  out  cisterns,  broken 
cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water."  ^ 

4.  The  fact  that  all  the  moral  attributes  of  God  are  con- 
centrated in  his  love,  quickens,  strengthens  and  deepens  our 
confidence  in  his  government.  One  class  of  men  have  com- 
plained of  his  government  as  it  is  seen  in  the  sphere  of  na- 
ture. They  have  described  the  myriads  of  animals  which 
have  preyed  upon  each  other,  and  have  been  at  last  de- 
voured by  their  antagonists.  They  have  portrayed  the  mul- 
titude of  diseases  which  have  afflicted  us  and  our  progeni- 
tors, and  which  have  made  it  fearful  to  live,  while  it  has 
been  more  fearful  to  die.  Another  class  of  men  have  com- 
plained of  the  divine  administration  as  it  is  exhibited  in  the 
Bible.  They  have  stigmatized  some  Biblical  doctrines  as 
hard  and  harsh.  They  have  criticized  certain  sentiments  of 
the  psalmists  and  the  prophets,  of  the  apostles  also,  and 
even  of  our  blessed  Lord,  as  implying  that  the  divine  gov- 
ernment is  arbitrary  or  unkind.     No  more  plausible,  no 

^  Isa  1:2;  Jer.  2 :    12,  13. 


286  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

less  plausible,  objection  has  been  made  against  the  natural, 
than  against  the  supernatural,  government  of  God.  Every 
one  of  these  objections,  however,  loses  its  force  just  so  far 
as  we  have  proof  that  the  doctrine  of  our  text  is  true. 
Whatever  attribute  God  possesses  he  possesses  in  an  in- 
finite degree;  and  if  we  are  truly  rational  we  shall  adore 
the  ways  of  infinite  love,  even  when  they  are  past  finding 
out. 

We  may  imagine  an  animalcule  spending  its  entire  life  in 
traversing  a  pillar  of  a  cathedral.  It  is  too  short-sighted 
to  see  the  other  pillars  of  the  edifice,  too  short-lived  to 
climb  so  far  as  to  the  arches  connecting  them.  It  has  no 
conception  of  the  arches  as  upheld  by  the  pillars  and  as 
upholding  the  roof;  not  the  slightest  apprehension  of  the 
cathedral  as  a  whole,  or  of  the  one  idea  embodied  in  its 
nave,  transepts  and  spires.  We  may  imagine  this  animal- 
cule criticizing  the  marble  on  which  it  creeps;  carping  at 
the  mountains  upon  it  so  difficult  to  ascend,  at  the  ravines 
and  precipices  so  dangerous  to  the  traveler;  fretting 
against  the  maker  of  the  marble  because  he  throws  needless 
obstructions  into  the  path  of  the  insect  which  has  but  a 
single  day  to  live,  and  spends  that  day  in  complaining. 
Because  we  are  superior  to  the  animalcule  we  find  it  hard 
to  comprehend  its  criticisms.  We  look  upon  the  stone  of 
the  cathedral  as  smooth  and  polished;  we  find  it  difficult 
to  imagine  how  there  can  appear  to  be  hills  and  valleys  in 
the  marble;  we  delight  in  the  pillars  and  arches  as  har- 
monizing with  each  other  and  with  the  spires;  we  are 
charmed  with  the  spires  as  emphasizing  the  idea  which  the 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      287 

entire  edifice  expresses — the  idea  of  aspiration  toward  the 
heavens. 

Whenever  we  hear  the  infidel  inveighing  against  the  doc- 
trines which  are  built  into  the  temple  of  divine  truth,  we  are 
reminded  of  animalcules  finding  fault  with  the  cathedral. 
In  his  childhood  he  looked  at  the  stars  as  they  seemed  to  be 
scattered  abroad  in  the  heavens,  and  he  did  not  discern  their 
relation  to  each  other,  their  order,  their  mutual  harmonies, 
— satellite  balancing  satellite,  constellation  set  over  against 
constellation,  one  retinue  of  globes  exactly  adjusted  to  an- 
other retinue.  He  did  not  deem  himself  qualified  to  con- 
demn the  mechanism  of  the  heavens.  When,  however,  he 
arrives  at  man's  estate  he  does  not  shrink  from  criticizing 
the  doctrines  of  the  Bible  as  if  he  comprehended  all  their 
vast  relations.  He  discovers  mountains  of  difficulty,  just  as 
the  ephemera  discovers  them  in  the  poHshed  stone.  He 
confines  his  view  to  one  or  another  doctrine  which  seems 
to  be  centrifugal,  and  does  not  expand  his  vision  to  the  cen- 
tripetal truth  which  holds  all  the  other  truths  revolving  in 
harmony  around  it.  This  central  truth  is  that  God  is  love 
— love  signally  manifest  in  God  incarnate,  preeminently 
manifest  in  the  Incarnate  One  at  the  hour  when  he  was  lift- 
ed up  so  as  to  draw  all  men  unto  him.  At  that  hour  of  his 
sacrifice  he  drew  all  the  truths  of  religion  around  him.  We 
need  not  deny,  we  should  rather  admit,  that  there  are  deep 
and  dark  mysteries  in  the  works  and  in  the  Word  of  God. 
His  world  was  not  made  as  we  should  have  made  it,  and  his 
Word  was  not  written  as  we  should  have  written  it.  If  they 
were  not  mysterious  in  many  of  their  aspects  they  would  not 


288  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

be  his  works  or  his  Word.  There  is,  however,  a  Hght  shining 
around  and  above  the  mysteries.  There  is  such  prepon- 
derating evidence  for  his  goodness  that  we  should  explain 
all  opposing  signs  in  conformity  with  it.  We  should  inter- 
pret the  obscure  by  the  plain,  and  not  the  plain  by  the  ob- 
scure. The  dark  events  of  the  world,  the  dark  statements 
of  the  Bible,  will  be  illumined  by  the  radiance  of  his  smile 
when  we  are  admitted  into  the  presence  of  Him  who  is  in- 
finite love. 

5.  The  fact  that  all  God's  moral  attributes  are  com- 
prised in  his  benevolence  is  rich  in  its  allurements  to  a  phil- 
anthropic and  pious  life.  We  have  already  attended  to  the 
inspired  words  which  represent  sin  as  wonderful.'  It  is  won- 
derful because  the  incentives  to  holiness  are  so  powerful. 
Regarding  these  incentives  alone,  we  should  presume  that 
men  will  love  Him  from  whom  cometh  down  every  perfect 
gift.  It  is  the  normal  tendency  of  love  to  insure  a  recipro- 
cated attachment.  If  you  wish  men  to  weep,  you  must  shed 
tears  in  their  presence;  if  you  desire  their  gratitude,  you 
must  bestow  favors  upon  them;  if  you  love  them,  you  ex- 
pect that  they  will  love  you,  for  even  the  publicans  and  sin- 
ners return  the  afifection  which  they  receive  from  their  fel- 
low men.  Depraved  as  we  are,  we  still  retain  certain  con- 
stitutional principles  prompting  us  to  reciprocate  the  love  of 
God  toward  us.  Nothing  but  obdurate  and  entire  sinful- 
ness can  altogether  resist  the  action  of  these  principles. 
Conscience  commands  and  urges  us  to  comply  with  them. 
It  promises  a  reward  for  obeying  them;  it  threatens  a  pun- 

'  See  p.  285 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      289 

ishment  for  disobeying  them;  it  discerns  an  attractive 
beauty  in  every  line  and  feature  of  the  divine  character. 
Our  judgment  advises  that  we  consecrate  ourselves  to  the 
service  of  Him  who  is  the  source  from  which  our  feebler  in- 
telligence is  derived,  and  the  pattern  after  which  it  is  formed. 
Self-interest  impels  to  the  union  with  the  Potentate  from 
whom  if  we  separate  ourselves  we  are  punished  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  and  the  glory  of  his  power. 

Various  qualities  have  been  prescribed  as  essential  to 
the  character  of  a  true  friend.  He  must  be  one  whom  we 
respect ;  for  love  will  not  be  firm  unless  on  the  basis  of 
esteem.  But  our  supreme  love  for  God  is  favored  by  his 
worthiness,  not  of  our  mere  respect,  nor  of  our  mere  rev- 
erence, but  of  our  adoration.  A  friend  must  be  one  whose 
attachment  is  not  fickle,  capricious,  vacillating,  but  fit  for 
our  steady,  undeviating  reliance.  The  perfection  of  God's 
love  is  that  it  endures  from  everlasting  to  everlasting.  Its 
radiance  is  the  more  cheering  when  our  enemies  would  en- 
velop us  in  darkness.  In  our  desertion  this  friend  draweth 
the  nearer  to  us.  In  our  sorrow  he  smileth  upon  us  the 
more  cheeringly.  Winning,  therefore,  are  our  motives  to 
make  him  our  chief  joy. 

But  to  love  him  is  to  be  like  him.  It  is  to  love  his  chil- 
dren. If  we  love  not  our  brother  whom  we  have  seen,  how 
can  we  love  God  whom  we  have  not  seen?  To  be  a  true 
philanthropist  is  to  intercede  with  God  in  behalf  of  our  suf- 
fering race  ;  to  become  their  servant  for  Jesus'  sake  ;  to  copy 
the  example  of  Him  who  went  about  doing  good — who 
was  not  content  to  forgive  his  enemies,  but  he  labored,  suf- 


290  ALL  THE  MORAL  ATTRIBUTES  OF  GOD 

fered  even  unto  death  for  them.  If  we  love  God  we  must 
love  men  when  we  know  them  to  be  undeserving  of  our  love, 
for  he  is  kind  to  the  unthankful ;  we  must  have  an  affection, 
strong,  firmly  grounded,  established  on  principle,  for  ene- 
mies as  well  as  friends.  The  choice  of  Jehovah  as  our  su- 
preme good  connects  us  not  only  with  our  own  race,  but 
with  all  orders  of  holy  intelligences ;  for  they  are  all  eman- 
ations from  Him  who  is  our  chief  joy.  We  and  they  are  all 
members  of  one  family,  looking  up  in  union  to  our  Father 
which  is  in  heaven. 

There  is  grandeur  in  many  scenes  in  nature.  Our 
thoughts  are  elevated  by  the  contemplation  of  the  worlds 
revolving  around  one  central  luminary,  receiving  from  it 
light  and  warmth,  and  seeming  to  yield  a  glad  obeisance  to 
it  in  their  quick  revolutions.  But  all  they  who  love  the 
Lord  are  like  the  stars  of  the  firmament,  and  shall  shine  for- 
ever and  ever,  he  irradiating  them  with  his  own  effulgence, 
and  shedding  a  warmth  over  and  around  them  from  his 
own  centralizing  and  ever-flowing  kindness.  Evermore  shall 
we  joy  in  reflecting  the  brightness  of  his  glory.  Evermore 
shall  we  surround  his  throne,  shining  in  his  grace.  Here 
is  a  new  incentive  to  a  life  harmonizing  with  his  love.  They 
who  harmonize  with  it  in  this  world  are  sure  of  their  bless- 
edness in  the  world  to  come  ;  and  the  certainty  of  this  bless- 
edness allures  them  to  diligence  in  preparing  for  it.  We 
have  an  instinctive  tendency  to  believe  that  at  last  truth  will 
prevail,  and  especially  that  love  will  triumph  over  its  ene- 
mies.    Once  the  perfect  love  was  humiliated;   once  it  ap- 


ARE  COMPREHENDED  IN  HIS  LOVE      291 

peared  to  have  been  conquered ;  but  its  seeming  defeat  was 
the  ground  of  its  ultimate  victory.  For  we  read  that  "He 
who  was  in  the  form  of  God  did  not  regard  it  as  a  prize  to 
be  on  an  equality  with  God,  but  emptied  himself,  and  took 
the  form  of  a  servant,  and  became  obedient  unto  death, 
even  the  death  of  the  cross ;  and  for  this  reason  God  highly 
exalted  him,  and  gave  unto  him  the  name  which  is  above 
every  name,  that  in  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should 
bow,  and  every  tongue  confess  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord  to 
the  glory  of  God  the  Father/  On  the  cross  our  Redeemer 
exercised  his  atoning  love ;  his  future  reign  is  the  result 
of  his  atoning  death;  this  atoning  death  is  the  great  fact 
of  the  divine  government;  it  is  the  ground  on  which  the 
sacrifices  of  the  old  dispensation  were  prescribed,  and  on 
which  the  glories  of  the  new  dispensation  are  to  be  per- 
fected ;  thus  it  is  the  central  fact  of  history  and  the  central 
truth  of  the  gospel.  If  here  we  are  coworkers  with  our 
Redeemer,  if  we  suffer  with  him,  we  shall  reign  with  him 
hereafter.  His  reign  is  to  be  the  unending  honor  of  love. 
His  character  is  an  ocean  of  love  in  which  we  are  to  bathe, 
an  atmosphere  of  love  which  we  are  to  breathe.  What 
manner  of  persons,  then,  ought  we  to  be,  in  all  holy  living 
and  godliness,  looking  for  and  earnestly  desiring  the  com- 
ing of  the  day  of  God, — looking  for  the  new  heavens  and 
the  new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness?"' 

'Phil.  2:   5-11;   Heb.  2:  9  sq. 

"2  Pet.  3;   11-13;   I  Cor.  i:  7-9;   Titus  2:   11-13. 


APPENDIX 


APPENDIX 


Notes  on  Sermon  on  The  Theology  of  the  Intellect 

Note  i,  p.  78.  This  reasoning  is  valid  only  on  the  suppo- 
sition that  our  Saviour  died  for  all  men. — One  of  Mr.  Syming- 
ton's arguments  for  the  doctrine  that  Christ  made  his  atonement 
for  a  part  only,  not  the  whole  of  the  race,  is  derived,  singular  as 
it  may  appear,  from  the  "rectitude  of  the  divine  character." 
He  says  in  his  Treatise  on  the  Atonement,  Part  I,  Sect. 
XL  Sect.  II.  2:  "The  supreme  Being  gives  to  every  one  his  due. 
This  principle  cannot  be  violated  in  a  single  instance.  He  can- 
not, according  to  this,  either  remit  sin  without  satisfaction,  or 
punish  sin  where  satisfaction  for  it  has  been  received.  The 
one  is  as  inconsistent  with  perfect  equity  as  the  other.  If  the  pun- 
ishment for  sin  has  been  borne,  the  remission  of  the  offence 
follows  of  course.  The  principles  of  rectitude  suppose  this,  nay 
peremptorily  demand  it;  justice  could  not  be  satisfied  without  it. 
Agreeably  to  this  reasoning,  it  follows  that  the  death  of  Christ 
being  a  legal  satisfaction  for  sin,  all  for  whom  he  died  must  enjoy 
the  remission  of  their  offences.  It  is  as  much  at  variance  with  strict 
justice  or  equity  that  any  for  whom  Christ  has  given  satisfaction 
should  continue  under  condemnation,  as  that  they  should  have  been 
delivered  from  guilt  without  a  satisfaction  being  given  for  them 
at  all.  But  it  is  admitted  that  all  are  not  delivered  from  the  punish- 
ment of  sin,  that  there  are  many  who  perish  in  final  condemnation. 
We  are  therefore  compelled  to  infer,  that  for  such  no  satisfaction 
has  been  given  to  the  claims  of  infinite  justice — no  atonement  has 
been  made.  If  this  is  denied,  the  monstrous  impossibility  must  be 
maintained,  that  the  infallible  Judge  refuses  to  remit  the  punishment 
of  some  for  whose  offences  he  has  received  a  full  compensation;  that 
he  finally  condemns  some,  the  price  of  whose  deliverance  from  con- 
demnation has  been  paid  to  him;  that,  with  regard  to  the  sins  of 
some  of  mankind,  he  seeks  satisfaction  in  their  personal  punishment 


296  APPENDIX 

after  having  obtained  satisfaction  for  them  in  the  sufferings  of 
Christ;  that  is  to  say,  that  an  infinitely  righteous  God  takes  double 
payment  for  the  same  debt,  double  satisfaction  for  the  same  offence, 
first  from  the  surety,  and  then  from  those  for  whom  the  surety 
stood  bound.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  these  conclusions  are  re- 
volting to  every  right  feeling  of  equity,  and  must  be  totally  inappli- 
cable to  the  procedure  of  Him  who  'loveth  righteousness  and  hateth 
luickedness.' " 

Mr.  Symington's  inferences  in  this  paragraph  are  correct,  if  his 
premises  are  to  be  understood  as  intellectual  statements  of  the  truth. 
But  Dr.  Jonathan  Edwards  (in  his  Works,  Vol.  II.  p.  26)  teaches 
us  that  "Christ  has  not  in  the  literal  and  proper  sense  paid  the  debt 
for  us ;"  that  this  expression  and  others  similar  to  it  are  "meta- 
phorical expressions,  and  therefore  not  literally  and  exactly  true." 
He  says  further  (Works,  Vol.  II.  p.  48)  concerning  distributive  jus- 
tice, that  it  "is  not  at  all  satisfied  by  the  death  of  Christ.  But 
general  justice  to  the  Deity  and  to  the  universe  is  satisfied."  A 
similar  remark  he  appends  with  regard  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
law.  See  also  Andrew  Fuller's  Works,  Vol.  IV.  pp.  92-100.  ist  Am. 
Ed. 

A  true  representation  seems  to  be,  that  although  Christ  has  not 
literally  paid  the  debt  of  sinners,  nor  literally  borne  their  punishment, 
nor  satisfied  the  legislative  or  the  remunerative  justice  of  God  in  any 
such  sense  or  degree  as  itself  to  make  it  obligatory  on  him  to  save 
any  sinners ;  yet  the  atonement  has  such  a  relation  to  the  whole 
moral  government  of  God,  as  to  make  it  consistent  with  the  honor  of 
his  legislative  and  retributive  justice  to  save  all  men,  and  to  make 
it  essential  to  the  highest  honor  of  his  benevolence  or  general  justice 
to  renew  and  save  some.  Therefore  it  satisfies  the  law  and  justice 
of  God  so  far  and  in  such  a  sense  as  to  render  it  proper  for  him 
not  only  to  give  many  temporal  favors,  but  also  to  offer  salvation  to 
all  men,  bestow  it  upon  all  who  will  accept  it,  and  cause  those  to 
accept  it  for  whom  the  interests  of  the  universe  allow  him  to  in- 
terpose his  regenerating  grace. 

Note  2,  p.  86.  It  has  already  been  explained  that  the  theol- 
ogy of  the  intellect  is  the  system  which  recommends  itself  to  a  dis- 
passionate and  unprejudiced  mind  as  true,  and  the  present  dis- 
course has  no  direct  and  prominent  reference  to  the  various  forms 
of   intellectual   theology   which,   in   the   view   of  such   a   mind,   are 


APPENDIX  297 

false.  It  has  also  been  explained  that  the  theology  of  the  heart 
is  the  collection  of  statements  which  recommend  themselves  to 
the  healthy  and  moral  feelings  as  right,  and  the  present  dis- 
course has  no  direct  and  prominent  reference  to  the  various 
forms  of  representation  which  are  suggested  by  and  suited  to  the 
diseased,  the  perverted  moral  feelings.  One  of  the  most  graphic 
descriptions  of  a  theology  which  is  neither  of  a  sound  intellect  nor 
sound  heartj  but  is  alike  impervious  to  argument,  reckless  of  con- 
sequences, and  dependent  on  an  ill-balanced  state  of  the  sensibilities, 
may  be  found  in  the  following  Letter  to  Dr.  Henry  Ware,  Jr.  That 
calm  reasoner  had  published  a  sermon  in  opposition  to  some  injurious 
sentiments  which  had  been  recently  propounded  at  Cambridge,  and 
acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  sermon,  the  advocate  of  those  sen- 
timents replied : — If  your  discourse  "assails  any  doctrines  of  mine, — 
perhaps  I  am  not  so  quick  to  see  it  as  writers  generally, — certainly 
I  did  not  feel  any  disposition  to  depart  from  my  habitual  content- 
ment, that  you  should  say  your  thought,  whilst  I  say  mine. 

"I  believe  I  must  tell  you  what  I  think  of  my  new  position.  It 
strikes  me  very  oddly,  that  good  and  wise  men  at  Cambridge  and 
Boston  should  think  of  raising  me  into  an  object  of  criticism.  I 
have  always  been, — from  my  very  incapacity  of  methodical  writing, — 
'a  chartered  libertine,'  free  to  worship  and  free  to  rail, — lucky  when 
I  could  make  myself  understood,  but  never  esteemed  near  enough  to 
the  institutions  and  mind  of  society  to  deserve  the  notice  of  the  mas- 
ters of  literature  and  religion.  I  have  appreciated  fully  the  advan- 
tages of  my  position ;  for  I  well  know,  that  there  is  no  scholar  less 
willing  or  less  able  to  be  a  polemic.  I  could  not  give  account  of  my- 
self if  challenged.  I  could  not  possibly  give  you  one  of  the  'argu- 
ments' you  cruelly  hint  at,  on  which  any  doctrine  of  mine  stands. 
For  I  do  not  know  what  arguments  mean,  in  reference  to  any  ex- 
pression of  a  thought.  I  delight  in  telling  what  I  think ;  but  if  you 
ask  me  how  I  dare  say  so,  or  why  it  is  so,  I  am  tlie  most  helpless 
of  mortal  men.  I  do  not  even  see,  that  either  of  these  questions  ad- 
mits of  an  answer.  So  that,  in  the  present  droll  posture  of  my 
affairs,  when  I  see  myself  suddenly  raised  into  the  importance  of  a 
heretic,  I  am  very  uneasy  when  I  advert  to  the  supposed  duties  of 
such  a  personage,  who  is  to  make  good  his  thesis  against  all  comers. 

"I  certainly  shall  do  no  such  thing.  I  shall  read  what  you  and  other 
good  men  write,  as  I  have  always  done, — glad  when  you  speak  my 
thoughts,  and  skipping  the  page  that  has  nothing  for  me.    I  shall  go 


^98  APPENDIX 

on,  just  as  before,  seeing  whatever  I  can,  and  telling  what  I  see ;  and, 
I  suppose,  with  the  same  fortune  that  has  hitherto  attended  me;  the 
joy  of  finding,  that  my  abler  and  better  brothers,  who  work  with  the 
sympathy  of  society,  loving  and  beloved,  do  now  and  then  unex- 
pectedly confirm  my  perceptions,  and  find  my  nonsense  is  only  their 
own  thought  in  motley.     And  so  I  am  your  affectionate  servant, 

R.  W.  Emerson." 

One  of  the  amazing  maladjustments  in  human  life,  is  that  in 
which  a  pious  man  has  such  idiosyncrasies,  or  has  been  so  misedu- 
cated  as  to  believe  in  a  false  intellectual  system,  and  to  feel  an  impul- 
sive attachment  to  it.  He  is  of  all  men  the  most  incorrigible.  Argument 
is  wasted  uport  him,  and  his  prejudices  are  the  more  unyielding  be- 
cause fortified  by  conscience.  He  is  also  an  unhappy  man,  for  his 
erroneous  views  do  not  harmonize  entirely  or  easily  with  his  pious 
feelings.  Hence  he  often  becomes  a  schismatic,  a  disorganizer,  a 
crossed  and  uncomfortable  member  of  society,  a  public  phenomenon. 

Note  3,  p.  90.  The  censure  frequently  pronounced  upon  the 
style  in  which  writers  like  Baxter,  Bunyan  and  Davies  describe 
the  punishment  of  the  lost,  is  no  further  merited  than  this  style 
can  be  shown  to  be  unfaithful  to  the  truth,  or  to  the  imperative 
necessities  of  the  minds  to  which  it  was  addressed.  If  the  publica- 
tions of  the  American  Tract  Society,  which  are  designed  not  for 
philosophical  criticism  but  for  practical  impression,  should,  as 
some  would  have  them,  describe  the  future  state  of  the  lost  as  it 
is  described  by  a  merely  scientific  theologian,  they  would  forfeit 
their  popular  influence,  and  perhaps  would  convey  error  instead 
of  truth  to  the  mass  of  their  readers.  That  all  uninspired  vol- 
umes are  imperfect  in  delineating  "the  terrors  of  the  Lord,"  is 
doubtless  true.  Their  imperfection,  however,  does  not  consist 
in  their  using  the  Biblical  forms  of  statement,  but  in  their  de- 
viating from  or  else  misapplying  these  forms.  Our  Saviour 
adopted  a  different  phraseology  from  that  of  the  prophets  before  him, 
and  that  of  the  apostles  after  him ;  and  a  wise  preacher  would  not 
exhort  a  Newton  and  a  Leibnitz  in  the  same  terms,  although  he 
would  use  the  same  great  ideas  which  he  would  employ  in  address- 
ing little  children,  or  in  expostulating  with  the  rudest  and  coarsest 
of  malefactors.  The  Biblical  impression  of  the  particular  incidents 
in  the  eternal  punishment  of  some  and  the  eternal  blessedness  of 


APPENDIX  299 

others,  is  of  course  the  best  impression  which  can  be  made  upon  the 
heart;  but  the  mental  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard  of  the  exact, 
precise  instruments  which  God  hath  prepared  for  the  retribution  of 
those  who  hate,  or  of  those  who  love  him. 

Note  4,  p.  95.  It  is  on  the  principles  indicated  in  the  pre- 
ceding topic,  that  the  aphorism  of  Pascal  (Thoughts,  ch.  III.) 
may  be  explained :  God  "has  chosen  that"  divine  truths  "should 
enter  from  the  heart  into  the  mind,  and  not  from  the  mind  into 
the  heart,  in  order  to  humble  that  proud  power  of  reasoning  which 
pretends  it  should  be  the  judge  of  things  which  the  will  chooses, 
and  to  reform  that  infirm  will  which  is  wholly  corrupt  through  its 
unworthy  inclinations.  And  hence,  instead  of  saying,  as  men  do 
when  speaking  of  human  things,  that  we  must  know  them  before 
we  can  love  them,  which  has  passed  into  a  proverb,  the  saints, 
when  speaking  of  divine  things,  say,  that  we  must  love  them  in 
order  to  know  them,  and  that  we  receive  the  truth  only  by  love ; — 
which  is  one  of  their  most  useful  maxims."  These  words  mean, 
not  that  the  heart  ever  perceives,  for  the  intellect  only  is  per- 
cipient, but  that  holy  feelings  prompt  the  intellect  to  new  discoveries, 
furnish  it  with  new  materials  for  examination  and  inference,  and 
regulate  it  in  its  mode  of  combining  and  expressing  what  it  has  dis- 
cerned. An  affection  of  the  heart  toward  a  truth  develops  a  new 
relation  of  that  truth,  and  the  intellect  perceives  the  relation  thus 
suggested  by  the  feeling.  On  the  same  principles  may  we  interpret 
the  celebrated  paradox  of  Anselm,  of  Canterbury:  "I  do  not  seek  to 
understand  a  truth  in  order  that  I  may  believe  it,  but  I  believe  it  in 
order  that  I  may  understand  it."  This  remark  may  be  made  to  ap- 
pear rational  by  the  paraphrase :  I  first  have  some  idea  of  a  doctrine ; 
I  then  cordially  believe  all  that  I  have  an  idea  of;  next,  by  the  love  in- 
volved in  this  hearty  faith  I  am  inspirited  to  form  still  more  definite 
ideas  of  that  which  I  had  before  perceived  clearly  enough  to  believe 
it  affectionately;  and  at  last,  by  the  relation  which  is  thus  developed 
between  the  doctrine  and  my  feelings,  I  obtain  yet  more  distinct  and 
extended  ideas  of  it,  so  that  I  may  be  said  to  understand  it. 

Note  5,  p.  loi.  The  preceding  illustration  suggests  some,  not  all, 
of  the  causes  why  the  doctrine  that  men  are  unable  to  be  more 
virtuous  than  they  really  are,  becomes  less  injurious  as  it  is  taught 
by  pious  divines  than  as  it  is  taught  by  infidel  philosophers. 


500 


APPENDIX 


One  generic  cause  is,  that  the  earnest  preacher  often  contradicts 
in  his  exhortation  what  he  has  seemed  to  advocate  in  his  discussion: 
but  the  intellectual  deist  has  not  the  heart  to  modify  his  denial  of 
human  freedom ;  he  retains  in  all  exigencies  the  unbending  theory, 
that  man  has  no  power  to  be  better  than  he  is. 

A  second  subordinate  cause,  really  included  in  the  first,  is,  that  the 
Christian  points  this  doctrine  chiefly  to  the  present  or  the  future, 
but  the  infidel  extends  it  equally  to  the  past.  The  pious  necessarian 
has  a  good  moral  purpose  in  declaring  that  the  present  and  future  ob- 
ligations of  men,  do  and  will  exceed  their  power ;  he  designs  to  foster 
thus  a  spirit  of  dependence  on  God ;  but,  for  another  good  moral 
purpose,  he  shrinks  from  informing  men  that  their  past  obligations 
exceeded  their  power.  The  reckless  fatalist,  however,  is  as  willing  to 
assert  that  men  have  obeyed  the  law  heretofore  to  the  extent  of  their 
ability,  as  that  men  will  have  no  ability,  without  supernatural  aid,  to 
obey  the  law  hereafter.  He  is  ready  to  stiffe  remorse  by  assuring 
the  convicts  of  a  penitentiary  that  they  have  possessed  no  more 
power  than  they  have  exercised  to  choose  aright;  that  is,  their 
choices  have  been  as  benevolent  as  they  could  have  been.  It  is  doubt- 
less true,  that  in  precisely  the  same  sense  in  which  a  man  is  or 
will  be  unable  to  perform  his  duty,  in  that  sense  he  has  performed 
his  duty  as  well  as  he  was  able  to  perform  it,  has  done  all  the  good 
which  was  possible  for  him  to  do.  But  the  best  feelings  of  a  Chris- 
tian forbid  his  use  of  such  language  in  regard  to  the  past,  favor  his 
use  of  the  opposite,  and  thus  induce  him  to  mitigate  the  evils  of  as- 
serting without  qualification  that  man's  power  is  less  than  his  duty. 

A  third  reason  why  the  necessarianism  of  Christian  divines  becomes 
less  injurious  than  the  fatalism  of  infidel  philosophers  is,  that  the 
most  trustworthy  of  these  divines  acknowledge  their  necessarian 
doctrine  to  be  expressed  in  the  language  of  the  emotions,  while  the 
fatalist  contends  for  the  intellectual  exactness  of  his  phraseology. 
The  wise  preacher  believes  in  only  a  moral,  the  fatalist  in  a  natural 
impotence.  In  Andrew  Fuller's  Apparent  Contradictions  Reconciled 
(Works,  Vol.  VIII.  pp.  Si-SS,  First  Am.  Ed.),  his  fourth  proposition 
is,  "The  depravity  of  human  nature  is  such  that  no  man,  of  his  own 
accord,  will  come  to  Christ  for  life ;"  and  his  fifth  proposition  is, 
"The  degree  of  this  depravity  is  such,  as  that,  figuratively  speaking, 
men  cannot  come  to  Christ  for  life."  The  younger  Pres.  Edwards 
says  (Works,  Vol.  I.  p.  307),  "Dr.  Clarke,  in  his  Remarks  on  Collins 
(p.  16),  gives  a  true  account  of  moral  necessity:   'By  moral  necessity 


APPENDIX  301 

consistent  writers  never  mean  any  more  than  to  express  in  a  figura- 
tive manner  the  certainty  of  such  an  event.'  "  Dr.  Day  (on  the  Will, 
p.  107)  remarks,  "We  are  not  justified  in  pronouncing  this  figura- 
tive use  to  be  wholly  improper"  (inadmissible).  The  elder  Pres. 
Edwards,  although  he  may  not  have  applied  the  epithet  figurative  to 
the  necessarian  terminology  which  he  employs,  yet  often  applies  to  it 
the  epithet  improper,  which  means  in  this  connection  not  inadmis- 
sible but  figurative.  "No  inability  whatsoever,"  he  says  (on  the 
Will,  Part  III.  Sect.  IV.),  "which  is  merely  moral,  is  properly  called 
by  the  name  of  inability."  Natural  inability  "alone  is  properly  called 
inability."  "I  have  largely  declared,"  he  says  in  his  Letter  against  the 
literal  necessarianism  of  Lord  Kames  (Works,  Vol.  II.  pp.  293,  294, 
Ed.  1829),  "that  the  connection  between  antecedent  things  and  con- 
sequent ones  which  takes  place  with  regard  to  the  acts  of  men's 
wills  which  is  called  moral  necessity  is  called  by  the  name  of  ne- 
cessity improperly;  and  that  all  such  terms  as  must,  cannot,  impos- 
sible, unable,  irresistible,  unavoidable,  invincible,  etc.,  when  applied 
here,  are  not  applied  in  their  proper  signification,  and  are  either  used 
nonsensically  and  with  perfect  insignificance,  or  in  a  sense  quite  di- 
verse from  their  original  and  proper  meaning,  and  their  use  in  com- 
mon speech ;  and  that  such  a  necessity  as  attends  the  acts  of  men's 
will  is  more  properly  called  certainty  than  necessity;  it  being  no 
other  than  the  certain  connection  between  the  subject  and  predicate 
of  the  proposition  which  affirms  their  existence." 

So  sure  is  it  that  man  with  his  unrenewed  nature  will  sin,  and 
only  sin  in  his  moral  acts,  and  so  important  is  it  that  this  infallible 
certainty  be  felt  to  be  true,  that  our  hearts  often  incline  us  to  desig- 
nate it  by  the  most  forcible  epithets.  These  epithets  often  make 
the  truth  appear  obvious  to  those  whom  pride  has  removed  to  a 
distance  from  it,  just  as  the  colossal  proportions  of  a  statue  raised 
above  the  capital  of  a  pillar,  make  the  statue  appear  like  the  exact 
image  of  a  man  to  those  who  look  up  to  it  from  the  remote  valle)^ 
But  if  we  infer  from  the  literal  meaning  of  necessity,  that  our  so- 
called  necessary  choices  are  in  fact  inevitable,  we  commit  the  same 
mistake  as  if  we  should  infer  from  the  colossal  dimensions  of  the 
statue,  that  the  individual  represented  by  it  is  a  giant.  It  is  easy 
to  see,  that  the  language  of  feeling  in  which  divines  may  and  do 
occasionally  express  the  certainty  of  wrong  choice,  must  be  different 
in  its  influence  from  the  language  of  the  intellect  in  which  fatalists 
invariably  express  their  doctrine  of  the  necessity  of  all  choice.     The 


302  APPENDIX 

demands  of  a  soul  which  loves  to  invoke  from  heaven,  are  met 
by  a  faithful  description  of  that  certainty  which,  in  the  words  of 
Pres.  Day  (Examination  of  Edwards,  p.  167),  is  a  "necessity  falsely 
so  called."  The  truth  is  mournful,  humbling,  well  fitted  to  awaken 
a  spirit  of  prayer,  that  man  left  to  himself  will  invariably,  surely  sin, 
but  it  gives  no  sanction  to  the  demoralizing  falsehood  that,  in  the 
literal  and  proper  sense,  he  must  inevitably  sin. 

That  the  terms  of  feeling  and  of  common  life  should  have  been 
adopted  as  the  scientific  nomenclature  on  the  subject  of  the  will,  has 
been  submissively  regretted  by  our  best  theologians.  He  must  be  a 
strong  man  who  can  bear  up  under  this  cumbrous  nomenclature 
without  lapsing  sometimes  into  its  literal,  which  is  not  its  technical 
meaning ;  and  many  a  Samson  having  been  overpowered  by  its  heavi- 
ness, has  been  compelled  to  "grind  in  the  prison-house"  of  Gaza. 
In  one  of  his  most  eloquent  passages,  Pres.  Edwards  thus  laments 
the  deceptive  influence  of  these  "terms  of  art;"  "Nothing  that  I 
maintain  supposes  that  men  are  at  all  hindered  by  any  fatal  necessity, 
from  doing  and  even  willing  and  choosing  as  they  please,  with  full 
freedom;  yea,  with  the  highest  degree  of  liberty  that  ever  was 
thought  of,  or  that  could  possibly  enter  into  the  heart  of  any 
man  to  conceive.  I  know  it  is  in  vain  to  endeavor  to  make  some 
persons  believe  this,  or  at  least  fully  and  steadily  to  believe  it ;  for  if 
it  be  demonstrated  to  them,  still  the  old  prejudice  remains,  which  has 
been  long  fixed  by  the  use  of  the  terms  necessary,  must,  cannot,  im- 
possible, etc. ;  the  association  with  these  terms  of  certain  ideas  incon- 
sistent with  liberty,  is  not  broken;  and  the  judgment  is  powerfully 
warped  by  it;  as  a  thing  that  has  been  long  bent  and  grown  stiff, 
if  it  be  straightened,  will  return  to  its  former  curvity  again  and 
again."     (Works,  Vol.  II.  pp.  293,  294.  Ed.  1829.) 

Note  6,  p.  104.  We  have  a  safeguard  against  the  dreams 
of  visionaries  in  the  two  principles  already  stated,  that  rea- 
son has  an  ultimate,  rightful  authority  over  the  sensibilities, 
and  that  it  will  sanction  not  only  all  pious  feelings,  but  likewise 
all  those  which  are  essential  developments  of  our  original  con- 
stitution. As  the  head  is  placed  above  the  heart  in  the  body,  so 
the  faith  which  is  sustained  by  good  argument,  should  control 
rather  than  be  controlled  by  those  emotions  which  receive  no  ap- 
proval from  the  judgment.  The  perfection  of  our  faith  is,  that 
it  combine   in   its    favor  the   logic   of  the   understanding   with  the 


APPENDIX  303 

rhetoric  of  the  feelings,  and  that  it  exclude  all  those  puerilities 
and  extravagances,  which  have  nothing  to  recommend  them  but  the 
pretended  inspirations  of  the  fanatic.  Whenever  a  discrepancy  ex- 
ists between  a  creed  and  an  expression  of  devotional  feeling,  as  for 
example  between  the  "Thirty-nine  Articles"  and  the  "Book  of  Com- 
mon Prayer,"  the  symbol  of  faith  ought  to  be  in  a  style  so  prosaic 
and  definite  as  to  form  the  decisive  standard  of  appeal,  and  to  ex- 
plain, rather  than  be  explained  by  the  liturgical,  which  are  apt  to  be 
fervid  utterances. 

Note  7,  p.  107.  The  fallen,  evil  nature,  which  precedes  and 
certainly  occasions  a  man's  first  actual  sin,  is,  like  all  other  evil, 
odious,  loathsome.  So  prolific  is  it  in  results  which  are  so  mel- 
ancholy that,  while  we  are  trembling  at  its  power,  we  are  roused 
up  to  stigmatize  it  as  "sinful."  We  may  thus  earnestly  reprobate 
it,  if  we  do  not  insist  that  the  word  "sinful"  shall  be  interpreted, 
in  scientific  language,  to  mean  that  quality  which  is  itself  worthy 
of  punishment.  In  our  abhorrence  of  this  disordered  state  of 
our  sensibilities,  we  may  call  it  "blamable,"  if  we  do  not  insist 
that  a  man  is  to  be  blamed  for  being  involuntarily  in  this  calami- 
tous state;  we  may  call  it  "guilty,"  if  we  mean  by  this  word 
"intimately  connected  with  guilt,"  or  "exposing  us  to  suffering," 
for  this  diseased  nature  leads  to  sin,  and  thereby  to  its  most  pain- 
ful consequences.  We  may  in  fact  apply  any  epithet  whatever  to 
our  inborn,  involuntary  corruption,  provided  that  this  epithet  ex- 
press our  dread  or  hatred  of  it,  and  do  not  require  the  belief  that 
a  passive  condition,  previous  to  all  active  disobedience,  is  itself 
deserving  of  punishment.  As  there  was  much  that  was  amiable  in 
the  young  man  who  possessed  nothing  holy,  so  there  is  much  that  is 
unamiable,  and  still  not  properly  sinful,  in  every  man.  But  although  in 
our  fervid  diaries  we  may  often  pour  these  unmeasured  reproaches 
upon  our  corrupt  nature,  yet  in  a  scientific  treatise  we  embarrass  our- 
selves by  using  the  emotional,  as  if  it  were  didactic  language;  by 
applying  the  loose  terms  of  the  heart  to  themes  where  the  sharpest 
discrimination  is  needed ;  by  speaking,  as  many  do,  of  a  kind  of  sin 
for  which  the  man  who  is  charged  with  it  does  not,  in  the  view  of 
conscience,  deserve  to  be  punished ;  by  reasoning  about  a  state  for 
which  the  child  involuntarily  subjected  to  it  is  "guilty,"  but  not  him- 
self properly  blamable.  The  well-schooled  divine  may,  although  he 
seldom  does  escape    the    confusing    influence    of    this    ambiguous 


304  APPENDIX 

nomenclature;  but  men  who  are  conversant  with  only  the  "English 
undefiled"  of  our  literature,  are  led  by  such  a  peculiar,  when  used  as 
a  dogmatic,  phraseology,  into  serious,  perhaps  fatal  prejudices  against 
the  truth.  When  these  terms,  often  allowable  for  the  heart,  are  used 
for  the  intellect,  they  change  their  character,  and  although  meant  for 
"the  lights  of  science,"  they  fail  of  their  artificial  purpose,  and  be- 
come "in  many  instances  the  shades  of  religion." 

Is  it  said,  however,  that  a  passive  nature,  existing  antecedently  to 
all  free  action,  is  itself,  strictly,  literally  sinful?  Then  we  must  have 
a  new  language,  and  speak,  in  prose,  of  moral  patients  as  well  as 
moral  agents,  of  men  besinned  as  well  as  sinners,  (for  ex  vi  ter- 
mini sinners  as  well  as  runners  must  be  active)  ;  we  must  have  a 
new  conscience  which  can  decide  on  the  moral  character  of  dormant 
conditions,  as  well  as  of  elective  preferences;  a  new  law,  prescribing 
the  very  make  of  the  soul  as  well  as  the  way  in  which  this  soul, 
when  made,  shall  act;  and  a  law  which  we  transgress  (for  sin  is  "a 
transgression  of  the  law")  in  being  before  birth  passively  misshapen; 
we  must  also  have  a  new  Bible,  delineating  a  judgment  scene  in 
which  some  will  be  condemned,  not  only  on  account  of  the  deeds 
which  they  have  done  in  the  body,  but  also  for  having  been  born  with 
an  involuntary  proclivity  to  sin,  and  others  will  be  rewarded  not  only 
for  their  conscientious  love  to  Christ,  but  also  for  a  blind  nature  in- 
ducing that  love;  we  must,  in  fine,  have  an  entirely  different  class 
of  moral  sentiments,  and  have  them  disciplined  by  inspiration  in  an 
entirely  different  manner  from  the  present ;  for  now  the  feelings  of 
all  true  men  revolt  from  the  assertion,  that  a  poor  infant  dying,  if 
we  may  suppose  it  to  die,  before  its  first  wrong  preference,  merits  for 
its  unavoidable  nature,  that  eternal  punishment,  which  is  threatened, 
and  justly,  against  even  the  smallest  real  sin.  Although  it  may  seem 
paradoxical  to  affirm  that  "a  man  may  believe  a  proposition  which  he 
knows  to  be  false,"  it  is  yet  charitable  to  say  that  whatever  any  man 
may  suppose  himself  to  believe,  he  has  in  fact  an  inward  conviction, 
that  "all  sin  consists  in  sinning."  There  is  comparatively  little  dis- 
pute on  the  nature  of  moral  evil,  when  the  words  relating  to  it  are 
fully  understood. 

Note   8,    p.    ii8.      It    is    a    noted    remark    of   John    Foster,    that 

many  technical  terms  of  theology,  instead  of  being  the  signs,  are  the 

monuments  of  the  ideas  which  they  were  first  intended  to  signify. 

Now  it  is  natural  for  men  to  garnish  the  sepulcher  of  one  whom, 

when  living,  they  would  condemn. 


APPENDIX 


305 


When  it  is  said  in  palliation  for  certain  technics  of  theology,  that 
they  are  no  more  uncouth  or  equivocal  than  are  the  technics  of  some 
physical  sciences,  we  may  reply,  that  the  sacred  science  above  all 
others  should,  where  it  fairly  can,  be  so  presented  as  to  allure  rather 
than  repel  men  of  classical  taste,  and  not  superadd  factitious  offences 
to  the  natural  "offence  of  the  cross."  True,  we  may  be  deceived  by 
the  figurative  terms  of  mineralogy  or  botany,  but  we  are  less  liable 
to  mistake  the  meaning  of  words  which  refer  to  material  phenomena, 
than  the  meaning  of  those  which  refer  to  spiritual,  and  then  an  error 
in  physics  is  far  less  baneful  than  one  in  religion.  If  chemical  sub- 
stances were  denoted  by  words  borrowed  from  moral  science,  if  one 
acid  were  figuratively  called  "sanctification,"  and  one  alkali  were 
termed  "depravity,"  and  one  solution  were  denominated  "eternal 
punishment,"  we  should  weep  over  the  sad  results  of  such  a  pro- 
fane style,  even  if  it  were  well  intended.  And  on  a  similar  principle, 
when  we  read  of  "the  vindictive  j  ustice  of  God,"  although  we  revere 
the  authors  who  use  the  term  in  its  technical  sense,  we  mourn  over 
the  ruinous  impression  that  will  be  made  by  such  a  piously  meant 
phrase.  Doubtless  it  may  be  needful  for  us  to  refer  occasionally  to 
the  obnoxious  technics  which  were  once  in  such  authoritative  use, 
but  if  we  make  them  prominent,  or  if,  in  employing  them,  we 
neglect  to  explain  their  peculiar  meaning,  we  unwittingly  convey 
false  and  pernicious  ideas  to  men  who  are  wont  to  call  things  by 
their  right  names. 

It  is  against  some  first  principles  of  rhetoric  to  say,  that  we  may 
safely  regulate  our  scientific  nomenclature  by  the  figurative  expres- 
sions of  the  Bible.  These  expressions  are  easily  understood  in  the 
spirit  which  prompted  them,  but  are  less  easily  understood  in  the 
spirit  of  the  schools.  If  all  the  Biblical  figures  were  arranged  into 
a  system,  and  if,  when  thus  classified,  they  were  reasoned  upon  as 
literal  and  dogmatic  truths,  we  should  have,  on  an  extended  scale, 
the  same  allegorical  logic,  which  we  now  have  on  a  scale  so  limited 
as  to  conceal  many  of  its  injurious  effects.  Perhaps  we  should  then 
begin  to  shape  the  Copernican  and  Newtonian  philosophy  in  the 
mould  of  the  passage,  "The  Lord  maketh  the  earth  empty,  and 
maketh  it  waste,  and  turneth  it  upside  down."  Some  errors  are  most 
easily  refuted  by  carrying  them  out  to  their  entire  length  with  all 
possible  consistency.  An  extreme  view  of  them  develops  their  es- 
sential nature.  What  is  a  large  part  of  Quakerism,  and  even  Swe- 
denborgianism,  but  a  collection  of  fancies,  interesting  as  such,  but 
now  flattend  into  theories? 


3o6  APPENDIX 

Conclusion  of  the  Sermon  on  The  Indebtedness  of  the  State 
TO  THE  Clergy 

Note  9,  pp.  127-176.  The  conclusion  of  this  discourse  as  orig- 
inally delivered  is  here  omitted.  It  consisted  of  Addresses  to  (i)  the 
Governor,  (2)  the  Lieutenant  Governor,  (3)  the  Council  and  Legis- 
lature (see  Preface,  p.  126).  In  the  place  of  these  Addresses  the  fol- 
lowing remarks  are  inserted  on  the  direct  and  indirect  influence  of  the 
clergy  in  educating  the  people. 

The  direct  influence  of  British  divines  on  the  higher  education  of 
their  land  may  be  recognized  in  many  facts  not  mentioned  in  the 
preceding  pages.     In  his   "Law   Studies,"   Sects.   153,   154,   160,  Mr. 
Warren  recommends  to  young  barristers  the   writings  of  William 
Chillingworth,  and  says :    "Chillingwortli  is  the  writer,  whose  works 
are  recommended  for  the  exercitations  of  the  student.    Lord  Mans- 
field, than  whom  there  could  not  be  a  more  competent  authority,  pro- 
nounced him  to  be  a  perfect  model  of  argumentation.     Archbishop 
Tillotson  calls  him  'incomparable,  the  glory  of  his  age  and  nation.' 
Locke  proposes  'for  the  cttainment  of  right  reasoning  the  constant 
reading  of  Chillingworth ;    who  by  his  example,'  he  adds,  'will  teach 
both  perspicuity  and  the  way  of  right   reasoning,  better  than  any 
book  that  I  know;    and  therefore  will  deserve  to  be  read  upon  that 
account  over  and  over  again;   not  to  say  anything  of  his  arguments.' 
Lord  Clarendon,  also,  who  was  particularly  intimate  with  him,  thus 
celebrates  his  rare  talents  as  a  disputant:  'Mr.  Chillingworth  was  a 
man  of  so  great  subtilty  of  understanding,  and  of  so  rare  a  temper 
in  debate,  that  as  it  was  impossible  to  provoke  him  into  any  passion, 
so  it  was  very  difficult  to  keep  a  man's  self  from  being  a  little  dis- 
composed by  his  sharpness  and  quickness  of  argument  and  instances, 
in  which  he  had  a  rare  facility  and  a  great  advantage  over  all  the 
men  I  ever  knew.    He  had  spent  all  his  younger  time  in  disputation ; 
and  had  arrived  at  so  great  a  mastery,  as  he  was  inferior  to  no  man 
in  these  skirmishes.'— 'Chillingworth  has  been  named,  for  the  reason? 
above  assigned,  as  eminently  calculated  to  subserve  the  purposes  of 
mental   discipline   for  the  student.     He  need  not,   however,  be  the 
only  one.     The  subtile  and  profound  reasonings  of  Bishop  Butler, 
the  pellucid  writings  of  Paley,  the  simplicity,  strength,  and  perspi- 
cuity of  Tillotson,  may   all  be  advantageously  resorted  to  by   the 
student  anxious  about  the  cultivation  of  his  reasoning  faculties.' " 
The  influence  of  a  preacher  on  the  popular  vocabulary  is  often 


APPENDIX  307 

overlooked,  and  is  not  always  the  same;  but  he  often  virtually  stands 
at  the  parish  gate  to  let  in  one  book  and  keep  out  another;  to  ad- 
mit certain  words  and  to  exclude  certain  phrases,  and  to  introduce 
or  discard  barbarisms,  solecisms,  impropriety  and  looseness  of  speech. 
The  sermons  of  Leighton,  South,  Howe,  Bates,  Attterbury,  and  Paley 
show  somewhat  of  the  extent  to  which  the  literature  of  England  is 
indebted  to  her  priesthood.  When  Lord  Chatham  was  asked  the 
secret  of  his  dignified  and  eloquent  style,  he  replied  that  he  had 
read  twice  from  beginning  to  end  Bayley's  Dictionary,  and  had 
perused  some  of  Dr.  Barrow's  sermons  so  often  that  he  had  learned 
them  by  heart.  Other  statesmen  have  made  a  similar  remark  in  re- 
gard to  the  "unfair"  preacher.  Dryden  "attributed  his  own  accurate 
knowledge  of  prose  writing  to  the  frequent  perusal  of  Tillotson's 
works."  "Addison  regarded  them  as  the  chief  standard  of  our  lan- 
guage, and  actually  projected  an  English  dictionary  to  be  il- 
lustrated with  particular  phrases  to  be  selected  from  Tillotson's  ser- 
mons." "There  is  a  living  writer,"  said  Dugald  Stewart,  "who  com- 
bines the  beauties  of  Johnson,  Addison,  and  Burke  without  their  im- 
perfections. It  is  a  dissenting  minister  of  Cambridge,  the  Rev.  Rob- 
ert Hall.  Whoever  wishes  to  see  the  English  language  in  its  per- 
fection, must  read  his  writings."  No  one  can  be  familiar  with  the 
style  of  Jeremy  Taylor  and  that  of  several  British  essayists,  without 
recognizing  his  influence  upon  them.  The  tincture  of  his  phraseol- 
ogy is  discernible  in  the  expressions  of  Charles  Lamb  even.  The 
character  of  Herbert's  writings  is  stamped  upon  those  of  Izaak  Wal- 
ton, and  the  insinuating  power  of  Walton  upon  the  English  lan- 
guage has  not  been,  nor  will  it  be,  inconsiderable. 

Similar  in  kind  are  many  statements  which  may  be  made  in  regard 
to  American  divines.  A  late  professor  in  one  of  our  universities, 
who  has  been  famed  throughout  the  land  for  his  effective  eloquence 
at  the  bar.  and  on  the  floor  of  Congress,  says  that  he  first  learned 
how  to  reason  while  hearing  the  sermons  of  a  New  England  pastor, 
who  began  to  preach  before  he  had  studied  a  single  treatise  on  style 
or  speaking;  and  two  or  three  erudite  jurists,  who  dislike  the  theo- 
logical opinions  of  this  divine,  have  recommended  his  sermons  to  law 
students  as  models  of  logical  argument  and  affording  a  kind  of  gym- 
nastic exercise  of  the  mind.  Judge  Sedgwick,  Judge  Story,  Judge 
Shaw,  Judge  Metcalf,  and  other  New  England  j  urists,  have  acknowl- 
edged their  intellectual  indebtedness  to  the  sermons  which  they 
heard  in  their  early  days.    It  is  said  that  those  sermons  were  often 


3o8  APPENDIX 

above  the  comprehension  of  their  hearers.  It  must  be  remembered, 
however,  that  in  the  olden  time  there  was  an  intellectual  aristocracy 
in  many  a  rural  township  where  now  there  is  none.  A  select  circle, 
including  several  families  of  culture,  gathered  round  the  clergyman, 
and  they  did  much  in  diffusing  the  influence  of  his  sermons  among 
their  less  enlightened  townsmen.  Men  learned  that  the  truths  of  re- 
ligion were  linked  with  each  other,  and  if  one  fell  out  a  second  and  a 
third  would  fall  out  also ;  that  the  whole  system  was  to  be  preserved 
in  its  integrity,  and  that  the  welfare  of  the  nation  as  well  as  of  the 
church  depended  upon  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  all  interlinked  with 
each  other.  When  Dr.  Stephen  West  was  pastor  at  Stockbridge, 
Mass.,  six  of  his  parishioners  were  judges  of  Massachusetts  courts. 
Rev.  Dr.  Timothy  Woodbridge,  one  of  his  parishioners,  writes : 
"When  I  was  a  very  young  man,  I  used  to  attend  a  meeting  for  de- 
bate in  which  were  from  ten  to  twenty  persons  liberally  educated  and 
residing  in  the  parish.  Some  of  them  were  law  students,  and  some 
theological  students.  Our  pastor  interested  the  students  of  law  as 
well  as  the  students  of  divinity."  His  educating  influence  was  highly 
prized  by  Theodore  Sedgwick,  John  Thornton  Kirkland  and  other 
eminent  men. 

By  the  influence  which  a  minister's  own  mind  receives  from  the 
habit  of  sermonizing  he  often  excites  the  youth  in  his  society  to  a 
course  of  liberal  education.  By  the  same  influence  he  has  often  been 
induced  to  become  the  instructor  of  a  training  school.  Very  much 
through  the  instrumentality  of  a  single  clergyman  living  in  a  retired 
part  of  Massachusetts,  thirty  young  men  of  his  parish  were  trained 
for  professional  life.  More  than  this  number  have  gone  to  our  col- 
leges from  a  single  religious  society  in  New  Hampshire.  The  Rev. 
Moses  Hallock,  of  Plainfield,  Mass.,  prepared  about  a  hundred  youth 
for  college;  Dr.  Wood,  of  Boscawen,  New  Hampshire,  prepared  the 
same  number,  and  among  them  his  two  parishioners,  Ezekiel  and 
Daniel  Webster.  A  hundred  and  sixty-two  young  men  were  edu- 
cated by  a  plain  pastor  in  the  neighborhood  of  Boscawen,  and  about 
thirty  of  them  became  members  of  the  learned  professions.  Each  of 
these  clergymen  will  long  live  in  his  pupils,  and,  whatever  may  have 
been  his  own  literary  attainments,  will  produce,  and  has  produced, 
a  visible  effect  on  the  literary  character  of  multitudes.  This  effect 
was  not  indeed  produced  by  sermons  altogether,  but  in  some  degree; 
not  merely  by  their  direct  influence  upon  the  auditor,  but  also  by  their 
reflex  operation  upon  the  preacher  himself.  His  appropriate  work 
inspires  and  prepares  him  for  subordinate  literary  labors. 


APPENDIX  309 

It  was  not  the  design  of  the  preceding  sermon  to  state  the  facts 
which  illustrate  the  indirect  influence  of  a  preacher  upon  the  intel- 
lectual character  of  man.  This  influence  may  be  illustrated  not  mere- 
ly by  insulated  facts,  but  also  by  connected  chains  of  facts.  His 
great  work  has  been  accomplished  in  cherishing  the  graces  of  the 
heart ;  but  in  cherishing  these  graces  he  has  performed  a  subordinate 
work  upon  the  mind.  Men  seldom  speak  of  John  Newton  as  an  in- 
tellectual benefactor  of  his  race ;  but  we  are  now  feeling  his  influ- 
ence in  the  hymns  and  letters  of  Cowper,  who  was  in  some  degree 
moulded  by  John  Newton;  in  the  writings  of  Buchanan,  who  owed 
his  religious  character  to  the  instrumentality  of  the  same  divine, — 
writings  which  are  said  to  have  first  awakened  the  missionary  spirit 
of  our  own  Judson ;  in  the  works  of  Dr.  Scott,  another  monument 
of  Newton's  fidelity,  and  a  spiritual  guide  to  hundreds  of  preachers 
and  thousands  of  laymen;  in  the  words  and  deeds  of  Wilberforce, 
who  ascribed  a  large  share  of  his  own  usefulness  to  the  example  and 
counsels  of  the  same  spiritual  father.  Edmund  Burke  on  his  death- 
bed sent  an  expression  of  thanks  to  Mr.  Wilberforce  for  writing  the 
Practical  Christianity,  a  treatise  which  Burke  spent  the  last  two  days 
of  his  life  in  perusing,  and  from  which  he  confessed  himself  to  have 
derived  much  profit ;  a  treatise  which  has  reclaimed  hundreds  of  edu- 
cated men  from  irreligion,  but  which  would  probably  never  have  been 
what  it  now  is,  had  not  its  author  been  favored  with  Newton's  ad- 
vice and  sympathy. 

George  Whitefield  made  so  little  pretension  to  scholarship  that  men 
often  smile  when  he  is  called  a  pioneer  of  a  great  improvement  in  the 
literature  of  England  and  America.  They  overlook  the  masculine 
and  transforming  energy  of  the  religious  principle  when  stirred  up, 
as  it  was,  by  his  preaching  against  the  pride  and  indulgences  and  sel- 
fishness of  men.  His  eighteen  thousand  addresses  from  the  pulpit 
gave  an  impulse  to  the  mental  activity  of  friends  and  foes  of  evan- 
gelical religion.  His  power  was  felt  by  Hume,  Bolingbroke,  Foote, 
Chesterfield,  Garrick,  Rittenhouse,  Franklin,  Erskine,  and  Edwards ; 
by  the  miners  and  colliers  and  fishermen  of  England,  the  paupers  and 
slaves  and  Indians  of  America.  "Had  Whitefield  never  been  at 
Cambuslang,  Buchanan,  humanly  speaking,  might  never  have  been  at 
Malabar."  We  may  add  that  if  Whitefield  had  never  been  at  North- 
ampton, Bethlehem,  Exeter,  and  Newburyport,  the  Andover  Theologi- 
cal Seminary  might  never  have  existed.  His  influence  has  been  re- 
cently traced,  percolating  through  various  agents  until  it  reached  the 
men  who  started  that  institution. 


310  APPENDIX 

So  we  may  believe  that  the  college  at  Princeton  was  affected  in 
no  small  measure  by  the  influence  of  David  Brainerd.  His  intelli- 
gence and  zeal  gave  a  perceptible  impulse  to  the  cause  of  education 
in  the  state  of  New  Jersey.  He  exerted  an  obvious  power  on  the 
men  who  founded  the  celebrated  "Log  College,"  and  on  the  men 
who  afterwards  established  Nassau  Hall.  Rev.  Dr.  David  Dudley 
Field  in  his  work,  entitled  "The  Genealogy  of  the  Brainerd  Family," 
says :  "I  once  heard  the  Hon.  John  Dickinson,  chief  Judge  of  the 
Middlesex  County  Court,  Connecticut,  and  son  of  Rev.  Mr. 
Dickinson  of  Norwalk,  say,  'that  the  establishment  of  Princeton  Col- 
lege was  owing  to  the  sympathy  felt  for  David  Brainerd,  because 
the  authorities  of  Yale  College  would  not  give  him  his  degree,  and 
that  the  plan  of  the  college  was  drawn  up  in  his  father's  house.' " 
(pp.  265,  266.)  We  need  not  insist  that  the  College  owed  its  exist- 
ence to  the  mere  sympathy  with  Brainerd  in  his  expulsion  from  Yale ; 
but  we  may  believe  that  it  owed  a  large  share  of  its  early  prosperity 
to  the  power  of  Brainerd's  life  and  labors. — See  Dr.  Archibald  Alex- 
ander's work,  entitled  "The  Log  College,"  p.  127;  also  Dr.  John  Mc- 
Lean's History  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  pp.  55-57- 


Notes  to  Discourse  on  Moses  Stuart 

As  the  author  was  called  unexpectedly  to  preach  at  the  interment 
of  Mr.  Stuart,  and  was  obliged  to  prepare  hastily  for  the  sad  occa- 
sion, he  has  deemed  it  not  improper  to  make  various  additions  to  the 
sermon  then  delivered.  He  has  not  pretended,  as  the  limits  of  a 
single  pamphlet  forbid  the  attempt,  to  give  a  full  portraiture  of  his 
teacher's  character  and  life. 

Note  10,  p.  204.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  a  complete  list  of  Mr. 
Stuart's  published  writings  cannot  be  made  out  at  present.  The 
following  is  an  imperfect  catalogue  of  them : — 

Two  Sermons,  preached  at  New  Haven,  one  immediately  before, 
another  soon  after,  his  resignation  of  his  pastoral  office,  1810. 

Grammar  of  the  Hebrew  Language,  without  points,  1813. 

Sermon  before  the  Salem  Female  Charitable  Society,  1815. 

Sermon  at  the  Ordination  of  the  Missionaries  Fiske,  Spaulding, 
Winslow  and  Woodward,  1819. 


APPENDIX  311 

Letters  to  Dr.   Charming  on  the  Divinity  of  Christ,   1819.     Fourth 

American  edition  in  1846. 
Sermon  at  the  completion  of  Bartlet  Hall,  Andover,  1821. 
Grammar  of  the  Hebrew  Language,  with  points,   1821.     Sixth  edi- 
tion in  1838. 
Letters  to  Dr.  Miller  on  the  Eternal  Generation  of  the  Son  of  God, 

1822. 
Two  Discourses  on  the  Atonement,  1824.     Four  editions. 
Winer's   Greek  Grammar  of  the  New   Testament.       Translated  by 

Professors  Stuart  and  Robinson,  1825. 
Christianity  a  Distinct   Religion,    1826.     A   Sermon.     Two  editions. 
Elementary  Principles  of  Interpretation.     From  the  Latin  of  Ernesti. 

Fourth  edition  in  1842. 
Election  Sermon.  1827. 
Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  2  vols.  1827-8.     Second 

edition  in  one  volume,  1833. 
Hebrew  Chrestomathy,  1829.     Second  edition,  1832. 
Practical  Rules  for  Greek  Accents,  1829. 
Sermon  at  the  Funeral  of  Mrs.  Adams,  1829. 
Course  of  Hebrew  Study,  1830. 
Letters  to  Dr.  Channing  on  the  subject  of  Religious  Liberty,   1830. 

Second  edition  with  Notes,  1846. 
Prize  Essay  respecting  the  Use  of  Spirituous  Liquors,  1830. 
The  Conversion  of  the  Jews :  A  Sermon  at  the  Ordination  of  Rev. 

Wm.  G.  Schauffler,  1831.     Two  editions. 
Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  2  vols.   1832.     Second 

edition,  in  one  volume,  1835. 
Grammar  of  the  New  Testament  Dialect.     Second  edition  improved, 

1834. 
Notes  to  Hug's  Introduction  to  the  New  Testament,  1836. 
Cicero  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul,  1833. 
Hints  on  the  Prophecies.     Second  edition,  1842. 
Commentary  on  the  Apocalypse,   1845.     2  vols. ;  pages  1008.     This, 

and  five  of  his  other  most  important  works,  have  been  reprinted 

in  Europe. 
Critical  History  and  Defence  of  the  Old  Testament  Canon,  1845. 
Sermon  on  the  Lamb  of  God,  1846. 
Translation  of  Roediger's  Gesenius,  1846. 
Sermon  at  the  Funeral  of  Mrs.  Woods,  1846. 
Scriptural  View  of  the  Wine  Question,  1848. 


312  APPENDIX 

Commentary  on  Daniel,  1850. ' 
Conscience  and  the  Constitution,  1850. 
Commentary  on  Ecclesiastes,  1851. 
Commentary  on  Proverbs,  1852. 

Several  of  the  preceding  v^rorks  were  republished  in  a  volume  of 
Miscellanies,  in  1846.  Among  the  anonymous  Essays  written  by  Mr. 
Stuart,  are  twenty  or  twenty-five  in  the  Panoplist,  the  Christian 
Spectator,  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Pilgrims.  Among  his  articles  for 
the  American  Quarterly  Register,  are  one  on  the  Study  of  the  He- 
brew, and  one  on  the  Study  of  the  Classics,  in  1828;  one  on  Sacred 
and  Classical  Studies  in  1831,  and  an  Examination  of  Strictures  upon 
the  American  Education  Society,  and  a  Postscript  to  the  Examina- 
tion, in  1829.  Among  his  Articles  for  the  North  American  Review, 
are  a  Review  of  Roy's  Hebrew  Lexicon,  in  1838 ;  of  Robinson's  Greek 
Lexicon,  in  1851 ;  of  Gilfillan's  Bards  of  the  Bible,  in  1851.  In  1851 
he  also  published  two  Essays  in  the  Quarterly  Review  of  the  Metho- 
dist Episcopal  Church,  South,  on  the  Traits  of  History  and  Doctrine 
peculiar  to  Christianity.  The  larger  part  of  his  Essays  for  Periodi- 
cals, however,  he  published  in  the  Biblical  Repository  and  the  Bib- 
liotheca  Sacra.  The  following  is  an  incomplete  list  of  them.  His 
anonymous  and  his  briefer  articles  are  omitted : 

Biblical  Repository 

1831.  Interpretation  of  Psalm  xvi. ;  pages  59. — Remarks  on  Hahn's 
Definition  of  Interpretation,  and  some  topics  connected  with  it ;  pages 
49. — Creed  of  Arminius,  with  a  Sketch  of  his  Life  and  Times ;  pages 
83. — Interpretation  of  Romans  8 :  18-25 ;  pages  44. — Meaning  of 
KYPI02  in  the  New  Testament,  particularly  as  employed  by  Paul ; 
pages  43. — Remarks  on  the  Internal  Evidence  respecting  the  various 
Readings  in  i  Tim.  3-  ^6',  pages  23. 

1832.  Are  the  same  Principles  of  Interpretation  to  be  applied  to 
the  Bible  as  to  other  Books?  pages  14.— Notice  of  Rosenmuelleri 
Scholia  in  V.  T.,  in  Compendium  redacta;  pages  5. — On  the  alleged 
Obscurity  of  Prophecy;  pages  29. — Hints  on  the  Study  of  the  Greek 
Language;  pages  20. — Samaritan  Pentateuch  and  Literature;  pages 

43. 

1833.  Hints  respecting  Commentaries  upon  the  Scriptures ;  pages 
50. — Is  the  Manner  of  Christian  Baptism  prescribed  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament? pages  103- 


APPENDIX  313 

1834.  Hints  and  Cautions  respecting  the  Greek  Article;  pages  51. 

1835.  On  the  Discrepancy  between  the  Sabellian  and  Athanasian 
Method  of  representing  the  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity :  Translated  from 
Schleiermacher,  with  Notes  and  Illustrations;  pages  88. — Second 
Article  on  the  same;  pages  116.  [Both  of  these  articles  were  after- 
wards republished  in  a  distinct  volume.] — How  are  Designations  of 
Time  in  the  Apocalypse  to  be  understood?  pages  50. — On  the  use 
of  the  Particle  Iva  in  the  New  Testament :  Translated  from  the 
Latin  of  Professor  Tittmann  of  Leipsic,  with  Notes;  pages  28. 

1836.  What  has  Paul  taught  respecting  the  obedience  of  Christ? 
Translated  from  the  Latin  of  Tittmann,  with  Notes  and  Remarks; 
pages  88. — On  the  meaning  of  the  word  TrXrjpoifjux.  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament; and  particularly  on  the  meaning  of  the  passage  in  which  it 
occurs  in  Col.  2:9;  pages  56. — Hebrew  Lexicography;  pages  46. 

1837.  Critical  Examination  of  some  Passages  in  Genesis  i. ;  with 
Remarks  on  Difficulties  that  attend  some  of  the  Present  Modes  of 
Geological  Reasoning;  pages  60. — Have  the  Sacred  Writers  anywhere 
asserted  that  the  Sin  or  Righteousness  of  one  is  Imputed  to  another  ? 
pages  89. 

1838.  The  Hebrew  Tenses :  Translation  from  Ewald,  with  Re- 
marks ;  pages  43. — Review  of  Prof.  Norton's  Evidences  of  the  Gen- 
uineness of  the  Gospels ;  pages  78. — Inquiry  respecting  the  Original 
Language  of  Matthew's  Gospel,  and  the  Genuineness  of  the  first  two 
chapters  of  the  same;  with  particular  reference  to  Prof.  Norton's 
"Genuineness,"  etc. ;  pages  44. — Second  Article  on  the  same;  pages  41. 

1839.  Genuineness  of  several  texts  in  the  Gospels;  pages  26. — 
What  is  Sin?  pages  34. — Second  Article  on  the  same;  pages  45. 

1840.  Christology  of  the  Book  of  Enoch;  pages  52. — Future  Pun- 
ishment as  exhibited  in  the  Book  of  Enoch ;  pages  34. 

1841.  Correspondence  with  Dr.  Nordheimer  on  the  Hebrew  Ar- 
ticle ;  pages  8. 

1842.  Examination  of  Rev.  A.  Barnes's  Remarks  on  Hebrews  9: 
16-18;  pages  26. 

Bibliotheca  Sacra 

1843.  Sketches  of  Angelology  in  the  Old  and  New  Testament; 
pages  66. — On  the  Manuscripts  and  Editions  of  the  Greek  New  Tes- 
tament ;  pages  28. — The  Number  of  the  Beast  in  the  Apocalypse ; 
pages  28. — The  White  Stone  of  the  Apocalypse :  Exegesis  of  Rev.  2 : 
17 ;  pages  16. — The  Lord's  Supper  in  the  Corinthian  Church :  Re- 
marks on  I  Cor.  II :  17-34;  pages  32. 


314 


APPENDIX 


1844.  Patristical  and  Exegetical  Investigation  of  the  Question  re- 
specting the  real  Bodily  Presence  of  Christ  in  the  Elements  of  the 
Lord's  Supper;  pages  42. — A  Second  Article  on  the  same  theme; 
pages  55- 

1848.    De  Wette's  Commentary  on  Rom.  s :    12-19 ;   pages  20. 

1850.  Exegetical  and  Theological  Examination  of  John  i:  1-18; 
pages  41. — A  Second  Article  on  the  same  theme;  pages  47. — Doc- 
trine respecting  the  Person  of  Christ :  Translated  from  the  German 
of  Dr.  and  Prof.  J.  A.  Dorner,  with  remarks ;  pages  27. 

1852.  Observations  on  Matthew  24:  29-31,  and  the  Parallel  Pas- 
sages in  Mark  and  Luke,  with  Remarks  on  the  Double  Sense;  Re- 
view of  Mornings  among  the  Jesuits  at  Rome. 

Note  ii,  p.  207.  The  sentiments  of  grateful  regard  which  are 
cherished  toward  Mr.  Stuart,  by  those  of  his  pupils  who  have  de- 
voted their  life  to  collegiate  instruction,  are  faithfully  expressed  in 
the  following  letter,  dated  Jan.  20,  1852,  from  Rev.  Francis  Wayland, 
D.D.,  President  of  Brown  University:  "I  entered  the  Seminary,"  says 
the  President,  "I  think,  in  the  year  1816,  and  remained  there  a  year, 
being  under  Professor  Stuart's  instructions  during  the  whole  time. 
I  have  never  known  any  man  who  had  so  great  power  of  enkindling 
enthusiasm  for  study,  in  a  class.  It  mattered  not  what  was  the 
subject  of  investigation,  the  moment  he  touched  upon  it,  it  assumed 
an  absorbing  interest  in  the  eyes  of  all  of  us.  A  Sheva  or  a  Qamets, 
if  it  affected  ever  so  slightly  the  meaning  of  a  word  in  the  oracles  of 
God,  became  at  once  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance.  I  do  not 
think  that  there  was  one  of  us  who  would  not  have  chosen  to  fast 
for  a  day  rather  than  to  lose  one  of  his  lectures.  There  was  also 
a  tone  of  perfect  candor,  and  a  sincere  love  of  truth  in  all  his  teach- 
ings, which  wrought  most  powerfully  in  developing  the  intellect  of 
his  pupils.  He  was  rigid  in  his  requirements.  He  expected  us  all 
to  do  our  duty,  and  was  sometimes  severe  if  he  observed  the  ap- 
pearance of  negligence ;  but  I  do  not  know  that  he  ever  administered  a 
reproof  which  did  not  carry  with  it  the  judgment  of  the  class.  Al- 
though so  many  years  have  elapsed,  I  at  this  moment  recall  with  de- 
lightful interest  the  hours  passed  in  his  lecture-room,  as  among  the 
most  pleasant  and  profitable  portions  of  my  life. 

"He  had  a  genuine  liberality  of  sentiment.  When  I  entered  Ando- 
ver,  but  few  Baptists  had  ever  been  connected  with  the  Seminary. 
From  the  commencement  of  our  acquaintance,  he  treated  me  with  a 


APPENDIX  315 

degree  of  confidence,  and  I  may  almost  say  affection,  that  won  my 
whole  heart.  From  that  moment  I  have  never  ceased  to  love  and 
honor  him,  to  delight  in  his  reputation,  and  to  look  upon  him  with 
almost  filial  reverence.  Nor  am  I  alone  in  these  sentiments.  I  be- 
lieve that  among  those  who  cherish  his  memory  with  the  most  en- 
thusiastic regard,  at  least  an  equal  proportion  will  be  found  in  the 
ranks  of  those  who  belong  to  sects  different  from  his  own.  With 
some  of  his  later  views,  I  am  unable  to  coincide;  but  this  difference 
of  opinion  does  not,  in  any  manner,  diminish  the  debt  of  gratitude 
which  I  shall  always  owe  to  the  instructor  of  my  youth,  and  the  un- 
deviating  friend  of  my  maturer  years. 

"A  monument  should  be  erected  to  his  memory  by  his  pupils.  I 
hope  that  the  subject  will  receive  immediate  attention.  The  father 
of  sacred  literature  in  this  country,  deserves  this  tribute  at  our 
hands." 

Note  12,  p.  215.  Professor  Stuart  died  at  ten  minutes  before 
twelve  o'clock  on  Sabbath  night,  January  4,  1852,  aged  seventy-one 
years,  nine  months,  and  nine  days.  He  had  been  a  preacher  of  the 
gospel  forty-seven  years,  a  teacher  of  youth  forty-one  years,  a  pro- 
fessor in  the  Theological  Seminary  thirty-eight  years.  His  death  was 
so  sudden  and  tranquil,  that  but  few  of  his  family  were  apprised  of 
it  before  the  morning.  The  tolling  of  the  chapel,  and  of  the  village 
bells  on  Monday,  announced  the  sad  event  to  his  townsmen,  many 
of  whom  did  not  know  that  he  had  been  dangerously  sick.  His  dis- 
ease was  the  influenza,  accompanied  with  a  typhoid  fever.  His  fu- 
neral was  attended  on  Thursday  afternoon,  January  8,  1852,  by  a  large 
concourse  of  clergymen,  pupils,  and  friends.  Rev.  Prof.  Stowe,  of 
Bowdoin  College,  introduced  the  exercises  with  an  invocation  and 
the  reading  of  select  passages  from  the  Bible.  Rev.  Prof.  Emerson 
of  Andover  offered  the  funeral  prayer.  The  choir  then  sang  the 
four  hundred  and  fifty-fourth  hymn  of  the  Church  Psalmody : — 

"Thine  earthly  Sabbaths,  Lord,  we  love." 

This  was  a  favorite  hymn  with  the  deceased,  and  one  which  he  had 
sung  on  every  Sabbath  of  the  past  two  years.  After  the  sermon,  the 
choir  sang  the  last  three  stanzas  of  the  seventeenth  Psalm,  Long 
Metre,  Third  Part,  in  the  Church  Psalmody : — 

"This  life's  a  dream,  an  empty  show." 


3i6  APPENDIX 

These  were  also  favorite  stanzas  with  Mr.  Stuart.  On  the  Sabbath 
after  his  interment,  many  clergymen  of  various  sects  and  in  distant 
parts  of  New  England,  noticed  his  death  in  their  pulpits. 


Notes  on   Sermon   on  All  The  Moral  Attributes  of  God 
ARE   Comprehended   in  His   Love 

Note  13,  p.  271.  The  preceding  sermon,  like  others  in  the  present 
volume,  will  be  regarded  as  here  too  strict  and  there  not  strict 
enough  in  adhering  to  a  scientific  nomenclature.  The  writer  has  in- 
tended to  diversify  his  terminology,  and  adopt  sometimes  the  more 
philosophical  and  sometimes  the  more  popular  forms  of  speech.  As 
the  doctrine  of  the  sermon  is  intimately  connected  with  other  doc- 
trines,— for  example,  those  of  future  punishment  and  vicarious  atone- 
ment,— and  as  the  views  of  the  writer  are  not  exactly  the  same  with 
those  of  other  writers  whose  main  principle  he  adopts,  he  has  en- 
deavored in  the  present  Note,  and  at  the  risk  of  much  repetition,  to 
explain  his  views  and  his  language  more  fully  than  he  felt  authorized 
to  explain  them  in  the  sermon. 

There  is  a  retributive  sentiment,  which  is  identified  by  some  with 
the  demand  of  conscience  that  right  and  wrong  acts  when  viewed 
merely  as  right  and  well-deserving,  or  as  wrong  and  ill-deserving, 
be  recompensed  according  to  their  desert.  The  choice  that  they  be 
thus  recompensed  on  the  ground  of  their  merit  or  demerit  alone  is 
in  harmony  with  this  retributive  sentiment.  It  is  a  choice  to  com- 
ply with  this  sentiment.  Both  the  choice  and  the  sentiment  may  be 
said  to  be  united  in  one  complex  act.  This  act  is  called  retributive 
or  distributive  justice.  We  speak  sometimes  of  legislative  justice, 
sometimes  of  general  justice;  but  when  we  speak  of  justice  without 
any  distinguishing  epithet  we  mean  retributive  justice.  It  has  been 
maintained  by  some  that  if  we  suppose  the  moral  element  in  this 
form  of  justice  to  be  a  form  of  benevolence  we  must  also  suppose 
that  punishment  is  to  be  inflicted  not  at  all  on  account  of  its  being 
deserved,  but  altogether  on  account  of  its  being  useful.  It  is  re- 
ported that  an  English  judge,  when  pronouncing  sentence  upon  a 
man  convicted  of  theft,  said  to  him :  "You  are  transported  not  be- 
cause you  have  stolen  these  goods,  but  in  order  that  goods  may  not 
be  stolen."  So  it  is  thought  that  if  retributive  justice,  so  far  as  it  is 
a  moral  attribute,  be  resolved  into  benevolence,  all  sin  is  to  be  pun- 


APPENDIX  317 

ished  not  in  any  degree  because  it  is  sin,  but  entirely  because  it  is 
hurtful ;  not  in  any  degree  because  the  punishment  is  deserved,  but 
entirely  because  it  tends  to  prevent  the  future  recurrence  of  sin. 
The  following  remarks  may  show  that  this  utilitarian  interpretation 
of  the  theory  is  correct. 

Happiness  is  a  natural,  but  not  a  moral  good.  The  choice  in  favor 
of  the  general  happiness  on  the  ground  of  and  in  proportion  to  its 
worth  is  a  higher  good.  It  is  a  moral  one.  It  is  the  virtue  of  simple 
benevolence.  The  choice  in  favor  of  this  virtue  on  the  ground  of 
and  in  proportion  to  its  worth  is  a  choice  in  favor  of  happiness,  and 
also  in  favor  of  virtue,  which  is  a  nobler  good  than  mere  happiness. 
This  choice  in  favor  of  virtue  and  in  opposition  to  sin  is  termed  com- 
placential  benevolence.  In  the  exercise  of  it  a  moral  agent  loves, 
i.e.  has  an  elective  preference  for  virtue,  not  primarily  because  he  cal- 
culates that  his  love  will  be  useful,  but  primarily  because  he  has  an 
intuition  that  virtue  has  a  normal  claim  to  be  loved,  i.e.  to  be  elective- 
ly  preferred.  His  complacential  love  of  virtue  develops  itself  into, 
or  is  complemented  by,  his  justice.  This  justice  is  a  benevolent 
choice  that  virtue  be  rewarded;  and  the  just  man  puts  forth  this 
choice  not  because  he  calculates  that  the  reward  will  be  useful,  but 
because  he  perceives  intuitively  that  the  reward  is  deserved.  His 
choice  in  favor  of  virtue  is  a  consistent  one,  and  becomes  a  choice  of 
all  that  normally  belongs  to  virtue.  Now  the  deserved  recompense 
belongs  to  it,  and  thus  his  choice  in  favor  of  the  virtue  becomes  a 
benevolent  choice  in  favor  of  its  deserved  recompense. 

The  moral  principle  involved  in  punishment  is  the  same  with  the 
moral  principle  involved  in  reward.  A  holy  man  hates,  i.e.  volun- 
tarily rejects,  sin,  not  originally  because  he  calculates  that  his  hatred 
will  exert  a  beneficial  influence,  but  originally  because  he  has  an  in- 
tuition that  sin  deserves  to  be  hated,  i.e.  voluntarily  refused,  on  the 
ground  of  its  intrinsic  evil.  His  choice  in  favor  of  virtue  is  a  choice 
in  opposition  to  sin,  and  as  the  former  is  termed  complacential  love, 
so  the  latter  is  termed  displacential  hatred.  This  hatred  of  sin  de- 
velops itself  into,  or  is  complemented  by,  retributive  justice.  In  the 
exercise  of  this  justice,  and  under  a  government  of  mere  law,  a  friend 
of  the  law  chooses  that  sin  be  punished,  and  his  choice  results  not 
originally  from  his  calculation  that  the  punishment  will  exert  a 
beneficial  influence,  but  originally  from  his  intuition  that  the  punish- 
ment is  deserved  and  ought  to  be  inflicted.  Before  he  reflects  on  the 
mischievous  tendencies  of  sin,  or  on  the  beneficent  tendencies  of  its 


3i8  APPENDIX 

punishment,  his  conscience  demands  the  punishment,  and  his  elective 
preference  is  united  with  that  demand.  In  exercising  this  preference 
he  limits  his  view  to  sin  as  ill-deserving,  and  to  the  punishment  as 
strictly  deserved.     He  enters  into  no  calculation  of  consequences. 

Thus  in  the  case  of  both  reward  and  punishment  the  hatred  of  sin 
overflows  into  justice;  the  moral  character  of  the  former  merges 
itself  into  the  latter;  the  two  forms  of  virtue  differ  in  the  constitu- 
tional sentiments  united  with  them,  but  not  in  the  benevolence  which 
is  the  essence  of  them.  The  choice  to  reward  virtue  on  the  ground 
of  its  merit  has  for  its  alternate  form  the  choice  to  punish  sin  on  the 
ground  of  its  demerit.  Each  is  good-will.  Each  is  resolvable  into 
the  choice  of  good  and  the  refusal  of  evil.  Each  is  called  retributive 
justice. 

We  now  come  to  a  different  form  of  justice.  The  reward  of  the 
virtuous  is  deserved,  but  an  additional  reason  for  bestowing  it  is  its 
fitness  to  do  good.  The  punishment  of  the  wicked  is  deserved,  but 
an  additional  reason  for  inflicting  it  is  its  fitness  to  do  good.  The 
merit  of  the  virtue  is  not  the  mere  condition,  but  is  the  ground  of  the 
usefulness  of  rewarding  it,  and  the  demerit  of  the  sin  is  not  the 
mere  condition,  but  is  the  ground  of  the  usefulness  of  punishing  it. 
The  choice  to  bestow  the  merited  reward  on  the  virtuous  for  the 
sake  of  the  benign  influences  flowing  from  the  reward,  and  to  inflict 
the  merited  punishment  on  sin  for  the  sake  of  the  benign  influences 
flowing  from  the  punishment  is  a  distinct  form  of  benevolence  as  well 
as  a  distinct  form  of  justice. 

The  good-will  which  regards  the  good  effects  of  reward  and  pun- 
ishment is  comprehended  under  the  name  of  general  benevolence  or 
general  justice.  The  same  good-will  takes  different  names  accord- 
ing to  the  different  constitutional  emotions  with  which  it  is  united 
and  according  to  the  different  aspects  in  which  its  object  is  viewed. 
As  retributive  or  distributive  justice  is  a  name  of  the  good-will  which 
is  united  with  the  retributive  sentiment,  and  has  regard  to  virtue  as 
well-deserving  and  sin  as  ill-deserving,  so  general  justice  or  general 
benevolence  is  a  name  of  the  good-will  which  is  united  with  all  the 
sensibilities  harmonizing  in  the  best  scheme  of  government  and  is 
exercised  in  regard  to  virtue  and  sin  in  all  their  relations ;  virtue  as 
not  only  well-deserving,  but  also  beneficial  in  its  influence;  sin  as 
not  only  ill-deserving,  but  also  hurtful  in  its  influence ;  the  appropriate 
rewards  and  punishments  as  not  only  merited,  but  also  beneficial. 
For  example :  our  Redeemer  is  now  rewarded  for  his  atoning  work. 


APPENDIX  319 

His  merit  for  this  work  is  the  merit  of  condignity.  Conscience,  or 
the  retributive  sentiment,  demands  the  reward  viewed  merely  as 
merited.  The  divine  benevolence  uniting  with  this  demand  confers 
the  merited  reward.  This  divine  benevolence  in  union  with  the  re- 
tributive sentiment  is  retributive  justice.  But  the  bestowal  of  the  re- 
ward conduces  to  the  welfare  of  the  universe.  The  divine  benevo- 
lence, uniting  not  merely  with  one,  but  with  all  of  the  normal  sensi- 
bilities, confers  the  reward  on  the  ground  of  its  being  merited  and 
on  the  condition  of  its  promoting  the  general  welfare.  This  form  of 
benevolence  is  general  justice  or  general  benevolence. 

As  it  is  benevolence  which  recompenses  the  righteous,  so  it  is  benev- 
olence which  recompenses  the  wicked.  The  fallen  angels  deserve 
the  penalty  which  they  are  now  suffering.  The  demand  of  conscience 
or  of  the  retributive  sentiment  is  that  they  suffer  what  they  deserve, 
and  on  the  ground  of  their  deserving  it.  The  divine  benevolence 
unites  with  this  demand  and  inflicts  the  punishment  viewed  as  simply 
merited.  This  benevolence,  forming  with  the  retributive  sentiment 
one  complex  act,  is  retributive  justice.  The  voluntary  act 
in  favor  of  all  that  is  merited  by  virtue  has  the  same  moral 
nature  with  the  voluntary  act  in  favor  of  all  that  is  merited  by 
sin.  If  "God  is  love,"  so  "God  is  a  consuming  fire."  But  the 
punishment  of  the  fallen  angels  will  be  useful  in  preventing  sin 
and  securing  the  safety  of  the  tempted.  The  divine  benevolence 
uniting  not  simply  with  one,  but  also  with  all  of  the  constitu- 
tional sensibilities  which  harmonize  in  the  best  scheme  of  gov- 
ernment, inflicts  the  penalty  not  alone  on  the  ground  of  its  being 
deserved,  but  also  on  the  condition  of  its  being  useful.  Punishment 
regarded  merely  as  deserved  must  be  inflicted  in  the  exercise  of 
retributive  justice;  regarded  as  both  deserved  and  necessary  for  the 
general  good  it  must  and  will  be  inflicted  in  the  exercise  of  general 
justice;  regarded  in  its  relation  to  the  atonement  it  will  be  remitted 
to  him  who  exercises  a  holy  trust  in  that  atonement.  Conscience 
demands  the  penalty  for  sin  in  one  aspect  of  the  penalty,  and  ap- 
proves the  forgiveness  of  sin  in  one  aspect  of  the  forgiveness. 

The  comprehensive  truth  may  be  stated  thus :  Our  benevolent 
Father  does  not  administer  his  moral  government  under  the  influence 
of  a  limited  attribute  alone;  not  under  the  influence  of  mercy  or 
grace,  or  distributive  justice  without  any  regard  to  the  general  wel- 
fare ;  not  under  the  influence  of  a  choice  of  the  general  welfare  with- 
out any  regard  to  the  demands  of  retributive  justice  or  the  pleadings 


320  APPENDIX 

of  mercy  or  grace;  but  he  administers  his  moral  government  under 
the  influence  of  a  general  attribute  looking  at  sin  and  at  pardon  in 
all  their  relations,  and  providing  for  the  greatest  and  highest  welfare 
of  the  universe.  Under  the  influence  of  this  general  attribute  our 
benevolent  Father  resists  the  plea  of  mercy  and  of  grace  when  the 
safety  of  the  universe  requires  him  to  resist  it;  he  yields  to  the  de- 
mand of  distributive  justice  when  the  general  good  requires  him  to 
comply  with  it;  his  distributive  justice  holds  the  scales  and  his  gen- 
eral justice  holds  the  sword;  the  former  urges  its  claims  and  the 
latter  complies  with  them  on  the  ground  of  their  rectitude  and  on  the 
condition  of  their  necessity  for  the  general  welfare.  The  punishment 
which  our  Father  inflicts  is  useful,  but  its  usefulness  rests  on  the 
ground  of  its  being  deserved;  the  justice  of  it  comes  first,  the  useful- 
ness comes  afterward;  the  punishment  cannot  be  useful  unless  it  be 
just,  and  it  must  be  useful  if  it  is  just,  unless  an  atonement  intervene. 
The  fact  that  punishment  is  deserved  rests  on  the  ground  that  sin  is 
intrinsically  evil ;  the  intrinsic  evil  of  sin  consists  in  the  fact  that  it  is 
a  preference  for  the  inferior  above  the  superior  good, — it  is  a  love  of 
self  or  the  world  rather  than  of  Him  who  comprehends  in  his  own 
being  the  welfare,  not  of  the  world  only,  but  of  the  universe  also; 
it  is  opposition  to  general  benevolence,  to  general  justice,  to  Him  of 
whom  our  text  affirms :    "God  is  love." 


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EDITOR  OFTHEBIBLl 


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BKOxNIZE  MEMORIAL  TABLET,  IN   ANDO\"ER  CHAPEL 
The  Gift  of  W.  F.  Draper 


Date  Due 

kg  6     '42 

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1 

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on  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


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